52 PickUp
by JabberwockyAi
Summary: A crossover piece: An unusual client at the Petshop. A young intern from Japan at the LAPD. Murders leading to someone with a vampire fetish. A pregnant Siren eating all of Count D's treats, and a troublesome Manticore to boot.Looks like business as usual
1. Chapter 1

**52 Pick-Up**

A crossover piece with YnM and Puppet Master Sakon: An unusual client at the Petshop. A young intern from Japan at the LAPD. Murders leading to someone with a vampire fetish. A pregnant Siren eating all of Count D's treats and a troublesome Manticore.

Looks like business as usual.

Pairings: Mild Watari/Tatsumi, Hisoka/Tsuzuki, hints of D/Leon

Warnings: Violence, swearing, mild gayness, and Ninja!Watari. You have been warned.

**Chapter 1:** Poker Faced

There was a monotonous, high beeping noise from under the pillow. It was loud enough to wake the sleeping figure, but had been muffled so that no one in the rest of the house could have heard it. Sakon slid a hand under the pillow and silenced the alarm with the slightest sense of irritation. Sitting up, he rubbed his eyes and waited until they adjusted to the dark. He glanced at the little glowing green numbers and frowned. It was a quarter after three. If he wanted to catch his plane, he had to get up now. Getting out of bed, he smoothed over the rumpled clothes he had slept in, and bending over to peer at his reflection in the mirror, he ran a comb through his disheveled black hair. There was a little crack of static and his bangs were sticking out at odd angles. Flattening them as best he could with his hands, he pulled on his traveling cloak, gathered up his suitcase, shoes and a black wooden box, he tip-toed along the corridors. When he was outside in the cool, damp night air, he crouched down, and tugged on his shoes.

"Running off without saying goodbye again, Sakon?" Someone said behind him as he opened the gate with a slight creak. Startled, he turned, and then his shoulders sagged. His aunt Kaoruko was standing their looking weary and had dark patches under here eyes. She must have just got home from doing some paperwork back at the precinct.

"Kaoruko-'neesan." He breathed.

"You know your grandfather disapproves of this idea of yours." His aunt said sternly.

"I know." He said, meeting her eyes. "I want to do this. I have a gift for it, and-" Kaoruko silenced him with a pat on the cheek.

"Shh. I'll give you a ride."

"-What?"

"I've just got back, but I'll give you a ride. It's no fun leaving without someone to see you off."

Sakon's confused expression eased into a smile. "Thanks."

Sakon had just turned nineteen and was in his second year of college. He had decided to become a detective. A _proper_ detective, like his aunt, not just the amateur work he did. His grandfather had stubbornly disapproves, and while he had done nothing himself to try to prevent Sakon from continuing his studies, the elderly puppet master had unleashed an unforgivable weapon of family warfare.

His _mother_.

Oh he loved his mother very much, that much was true. But she cried. A lot. Happy, sad, there was no damming her tears and she would sniffle, and blow her nose and make everyone feel a little guilty.

But even though Saemon Tachibana wanted Sakon to be the head of the family and continue their legacy of Bunraku puppetry, Sakon's resolve was firm. His talents would go into solving murders. It wasn't like he had much choice about it anyway what withthe way death seemed to follow him everywhere, so he might as well hone his skills and really know what he was doing. As much as he yearned to continue with puppetry, he could never forgive himself if he didn't at least try to become a detective.

Which was why he was taking advantage this overseas internship in California. He had scrimped and saved for the past three years to travel outside of Japan, and now he was finally leaving. Kaoruko had been the only one to support him in this endeavor, and Sakon was forever grateful to her.

As they drove, he watched the tranquil night grow increasingly more full of activity as they got closer and closer to the city. It wasn't long until they had reached the airport.

---

Count D looked at the Siren sprawled out on the couch, with her swollen belly, a hot-water bottle on her lower back, and a cushion held between her legs. Her head was tucked under her wings, her feathered tail curled around her ankle and the only indication she was awake was that she would make exquisite noises of 'my-back-hurts'. The Siren had a slight build, and was probably much too young to be laying an egg. Still, D had dealt with young Siren mothers before, and he had seen that they laid their eggs just fine. Lifting one wing he peered at the face scrunched up with the effort of whatever was ailing her.

"How is my little nestwing?" He asked gently. Sirens were very much so the epitome of drama queens, and expectant mothers were even worse. Resigned to being the target of the creature's bad mood, D bit his tongue and let her moan and groan, and kept his voice a gentle croon so she had less to complain about. Not that that would stop her or anything, but he was determined to take the highground in this. That andhe was rather annoyed she had gotten into his chocolate stash earlier that week. Mister Detective had better have something tasty when he dropped by, or the Siren wasn't going to be the only thing with a temper.

...Still, she was a fine specimen of her species; mostly humanoid, with powder blue feathers andflesh. Her legs' smooth skin giving way to silvery white scales just below her knees and she walked (currently waddled)on bird-like feet, with two large claws that were held upright and curved dangerously much like a velociraptors. Her hands were human, though from below her elbows and just above her knuckles were soft downy feathers. She had a ruff of the same down around her neck, a small face with slightly darker and purple markings around her eyes, on her forehead and cheeks. Her hair was long and very pretty shade of sky blue, though currently plastered down with sweat from the California summer heat. The creature had been named Trilochana by theHindu monkwho had brought her to D. He explained that because the markings on her forehead looked like a third eye and so the name was truly fitting. As D mopped her forehead he knew the man had been right.

Patting Trilochana's cheek reassuringly the Count stood.

"I'll make some herb tea and light some incense. You just get some rest."

The Siren didn't respond at first, but did crack open one large eye that was entirely blue. "Want more D-D food."

D managed to keep his face straight, and mentally noted never, _**EVER**_ let Leon meet this creature lest he get taunted with calls of "Hey Count D-D! I brought you D-D food!"

He knew the human would not be above resisting that kind of temptation.

Stepping out of what had once been a small storage room that he had cleaned out and made suitable living quarters so the Siren could have some room and privacy from the other animals, he shut and locked the door behind him.

"D-D, huh?"

The Count looked up and frowned. Speak of the big blonde devil.

"Detective Orcot, I will have to insist you refrain from calling me by that little nickname."

Detective Leon Orcot stood looking smug and triumphant. It was the first time he had made D scowl like that in a while and it gave him a very warm, fuzzy feeling of spiteful satisfaction in the pit of his stomach.

"Whatever. I got you pegged this time D-D. One of your mad little beasties was running loose and nearly took a chunk out of me. Thank god I mentioned you otherwise I'd be missing half my thigh."

"Oh! How... unfortunate. So I wonder which of my clientle have breeched their contract?" He mused, leaning against the door just in case Leon got it into his head to peek in on the Siren.

"I have no idea what it's called. It's got a human torso growing out of some sort of big-cat body, pretty huge wings and a tail like a scorpion."

D's expression didn't change, though one brow was raised. "I haven't sold any Manticores." He said smoothly. "I make a point not to. They're extremely dangerous."

Leon huffed. "Like everything else you sell is safe and harmless? Jesus D, I don't need this on top of like, two deaths in this week by some sicko who thinks he's a vampire!" But little alarm bells were going off. If D said that thing was dangerous...

"If people keep to their contracts there's no reason at all that the animals I sell shouldn't be perfectly good pets. Manticores cannot be bound by contract."

"Well as soon as I mentioned you, it backed down!"

"And I tell you now I don't know why, because I don't have anything to do with that kind of animal!"

"Well you're the only one who sells critters like it! It _asked_ me to take it to you!"

"And I tell you they can't be sold! They're violent, uncontrollable, completely volatile and vicious animals. They devour people whole and- YOU BROUGHT IT HERE! Leon ho-"

There was a noise like several trumpets all playing different notes at once. The room became silent. Animals in cages made themselves as small as possible and huddled into corners, disappeared into cardboard tubes or in some cases, vanished from sight entirely. Animals not in cages scrambled for a hiding place. Eventhe Totetsuhad taken shelter behind the desk.

The source of the trumpet like sound padded towards them from around a shelf of bird cages, licking it's fingers. The only sign that it had eaten anything were a few brightly colored feathers floating to the floor and a half open birdcage.

D looked indignant, horrified, disgusted and utterly livid.

The Manticore was not much larger than a pony, and was definitely a female. Case in point, it had a broad-shouldered female torso growing out of a lions body. The torso was quite muscular and thick-skinned and the head could quite easily belong to a rather handsome young lady were it not for the razor sharp canines and enormous round blue eyes, with slit pupils like a cats. She had a mane of wild brownish yellow hair, though it was groomed and kept free of knots and snares. Large pale yellow wings with scruffy feathers were attached to shoulders of lion body. They were folded to her sides, but D swore they must be able to span twenty feet total. The thing probably couldn't get airborne without a nice high place to jump from and a strong thermal.

But what made him wary was the tail. It was a scorpion like tail, and he knew for a fact that it contained the most deadly venom known to man.

"Is... Manjula here?" the creature said in cautious human-speak. "She has egg. Want to see, egg!"

"Who's Manjula?" Leon whispered to D.

"No idea." D whispered back and approached the Manticore cautiously. He hoped it wouldn't try anything. "I don't have anyone here named Manjula," he said slowly, and the creature rested a clawed hand on it's chin, thinking hard for a moment.

"I see. I come back. Wait for Manjula. Wait like promised. Promised egg!" At that, the Manticore sped out the door into the empty street, spread its enormous wings, beat them twice and was airborne, circling above on a thermal and soon vanished behind a sky rise.

D's lips had curled into a frown. This looked like things were going to get troublesome.

"May I offer you some tea?" He said to a gaping Leon, trying to regain his elegant composure. "I was just about to make some for the expectant mother."

Leon shook himself into some semblance of normal and nodded. "After that? I think I'm going to need it."

---

"You took your sweet time at D's," Jill said, not looking up from filing a report. Leon flopped down and swivelled round-about in his chair.

"Jill?"

"Yes?"

"What do you know about Manticores?" He said sounding a little dazed. "And how do you go about making a public service announcement not to go near one?"

"Well I... What? Leon, are you drunk?"

"No."

Jill gave him an unconvinced sidelong glance. "...High?"

"NO!"

"Then what the hell is a... this is about one of D's little monstrosities isn't it?"

Leon shrugged. "It didn't belong to him, but I think it was looking for something that D should be looking after."

Leon was unnerved. He had known the Count for a while now, and not once had he seen him look that worried. It wasn't like many people could tell the Count was worried, but just the little frown, the brief knitting of the brow and the way the hands had suddenly clenched... it had to be some kind of feeling of not being entirely at ease.

Pulling the screen up on his laptop, he waited for it to wake up from stand-by mode, and quietlythanked god for the Internet.

"Are you going to tell me what the hell you're on about?" Jill said, seating herself and tossing a raisin from her trail-mix at Leon's forehead. He picked it up off of his keyboard, popped it into his mouth, and grunted.

"Oh fine," Jill leaned back in her chair and glowered.

"Holy shit." Was all Leon said after about a quarter of an hour of Googling 'Manticores'. He looked up at Jill, and his mouth was opening and closing like a fish. He finally managed another "Holy shit." And he got out of his chair, grabbed his wallet and turned to Jill.

"I'm going to go see D again. Be back in a bit."

Jill looked alarmed. "Leon, what are...? Leon, GET BACK HERE! The Chief is going to have your head if you go running off!" But he was already running out the door looking frantic.

Standing, she peered at the screen of his laptop, reading slowly, her mouth moving with the words but soon steadily grew into an 'O' of comprehension.

"Holy shit."

---

Thud.

"Quit it."

Thud. Thud.

"Knock it off."

Thudthudthud.

"I'm going to tell the Chief you're throwing pencils in the ceiling and not being even remotely productive." Said Hisoka Kurosaki, peering up at his partner with eyes the color of spring grass. Tsuzuki Asato, the older and taller of the two Shinigami with a much darker complexion than Hisoka, wore a guileless little smile.

"Not productive? Who? Me?"

"Yes, you. If you don't cut it out, I will tell the Chief." His expression grew darker, more menacing. "Or perhaps Tatsumi would be so kind as to grant me permission to see how well those pencils stick in your nostrils...?"

Tsuzuki cowered, and quickly grabbed a few folders of reports and got to work.

"That's what I thought." Hisoka said in satisfaction, returning to filling out his report.

---

Today, Watari was feeling like a Ninja. He was invisible! Stealthy!_Ninja_-like.

Target acquired! thought the blonde Shinigami, closing in on the figure hunched over his work. This potion was amazing! It rendered the drinker completely invisible and inaudible. Not even footprints could be left by this wondrous little concoction! It was the ultimate potion in stealth! Perfect for creeping up on unsuspecting Tatsumi and giving him a wet-willy.

Crouched down, Watari poised his moist finger beside Tatsumi's ear and-

"If you would be so kind Yutaka-san, please save me a trip and go bring Kurosaki-san and Asato-san into the Chief's office ASAP?"

_How did he do it_! "How do you do it!" Watari bemoaned his failed **Mission:** Wet Willy. Tatsumi always knew when someone was sneaking up on him.

"You smell like acid. And I don't mean the sulfuric kind." An aggravated Tatsumi replied.

"...Kicked the habit. I swear I've been clean since '86."

"There's no room for burnt out hippies in the Judgment Bureau. Get going."

Watari puffed himself up in indignation and stomped off to go pinch Hisoka's cheeks and give Tsuzuki a wedgie.

---

Ten minutes and a few very undignified shrieks and squawks later, five Shinigami were assembled in the Chief's office. One was gingerly rubbing slightly bruised cheeks. The other had his hands firmly clamped on his posterior. The effects of Watari's potion were beginning to wear off, and hence the man would flicker off and on like a bad light bulb, or stand around in a state of translucency for a few seconds and then go back to flickering.

The Chief, a paunchy, gray-haired man with a stern face, chisled with wrinkles, surveyed the other Shinigami with his perpetual frown.

"Got a lead on the Kazutaka case." He announced gruffly to the assembled. Postures stiffened almost immediately, though none so much as Hisoka and Tsuzuki. Gone was the daily antics and sarcasm from the two Shinigami. Tsuzuki was bracing himself for what came next, and Hisoka was staring unblinking at the chief.

"The victims, two women in their twenties were found with puncture marks on their necks. At both crime scenes, LAPD forensics picked up strands of silver hair and fibers that would belong to a white suit, costing approximately a million Yen."

"Sounds like Muraki alright," Tsuzuki scoffed at the sheer thought of a million yen.

Hisoka raised his hand. "I'm sorry sir. Did you say LAPD? Aren't they in California?"

"I'll get to that in a minute Kurosaki-san. DNA testing confirms that the hairs found at the crime match the hairs from the Kyoto case. Also found at both scenes were a red rose and a note. The note reading-"

"-'I promise you a million roses when next we meet', right?" Tsuzuki managed in a humorless laugh.

The Chief nodded. "Muraki's calling card, alright. He's definitely trying to bait Tsuzuki."

"Why in LA, I wonder?" Watari mused.

"He's too safe here." Hisoka answered almost immediately. He felt suddenly bashful as four pairs of eyes landed on him. He could practically taste their curiosity, and worst of all, Tsuzuki's apprehension. He swallowed hard, and continued. "He... Muraki knew that back in Kyoto. There's nothing stopping Tatsumi or Watari showing up out of the blue to save Tsuzuki's sorry ass."

Tsuzuki shot him a look at that last bit, but Hisoka stared back defiantly, daring to the older Shinigami to deny that he had been the 'damsel in distress' on so many occasions. Tsuzuki grumbled something and backed down.

"He wants Tsuzuki where he's not protected by the bureau. He especially wants him away from Tatsumi." The Shadow Master's fingers clenched at this. He had proved beyond a doubt that Muraki was no match for him. Hisoka continued. "In any case, what are we going to be doing? Los Angelos is way out of our jurisdiction."

The Chief rubbed his chin with a thoughtful 'hrmm', carefully contemplating if he should say next what was on his mind. He decided to do so, simply because he knew Tsuzuki would be infuriated if he didn't.

"There are Shinigami in America," he said cautiously, and there is a small group in California. They sent the information on these crimes because it coincided with files on our priority investigations."

"If I can go to Los Angeles, I want to. He won't stop killing until I show up." Tsuzuki said immediately. It was rare to see him so diligant.

"...And then he'll slither off and disappear until he feels like having you drop in again," Watari said exasperated. "The Chief said. He's baiting you. And your going for it, hook line and sinker."

"Can I finish?" The Chief Konoe snapped, and Watari flickered guiltily. "Thank you. The LA unit is working day and night on this but they don't have nearly enough manpower to deal with someone like Muraki. They don't really know the old magic."

There were glances exchanged. Looks that clearly translated to ' Fucking newbs'.

"They need help, and they're willing to shell out expenses for a couple of Shinigami who are experienced in dealing with Muraki." The Chief finished.

"I'm going." Tsuzuki said firmly. There was no room for argument. Everyone knew not to anyway.

"I'm going too." Hisoka said immediately. Tsuzuki looked as though he was going to protest but Hisoka shot him a glare. "I'm not leaving you alone with him." There was just the slightest hint of possessiveness in the smaller Shinigami's voice.

"Um... but neither of you speak English." The Chief pointed out.

There was a tiny coughing in the corner. It was a small, polite little noise, and heads turned.

Delicately rotting in the corner, and giving a wide grin that could be described as toothy had most of them not fallen out (and the ones that hadn't would make any toothfairy die a little inside), was the miniscule undead gardener wearing a pink apron.

"The Count of the Hall of Candles says that slight problem can be rectified," said Watson, fussing with his apron.

"Really!" Tsuzuki felt overjoyed.

"...for a price."

Tsuzuki blanched.

Watson was still grinning.

---

End of Chapter 1

A/N: Cackles Oh I am an evil little thing. Yes yes. Mostly this is being written to relieve exam stress. Whether it will be continued or not is up to me entirely. C&C welcome. Pie even more welcome. I like pie.

Small translations:

Trilochana and Manjula are Indian names (as in India, not Native American). Trilochana means 'Three-eyed one' and Manjula means 'Melodious'.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2: **Black Jack

---

They were getting close to LA. The captain had announced they had about half an hour left of flight and that they were over land. Not that you could see through the thick cloud cover (or was it fog? Los Angeles was famous for it after all...), but they were reaching their destination. Tourists returning from Japan, tourists going to America, foreign exchange students, other interns, and even a few people making the trip permanent. There was an overall feeling of excitement, and wondering what awaited them at the airport.

Ukon had become very popular on the plane. Little kids had crowded around the fast-talking red haired puppet, shooting back their own childish wisecracks. Ukon was even more engrossing than Beauty and the Beast, the current in-flight film. He shook hands, patted heads, and laughed and joked and had various outbursts of annoyance which the kids found very funny. He was like Pinocchio, only cooler!

Adults were awed by how masterfully Sakon controlled the puppet, and the dark-haired teen's ventriloquism was flawless. It was, at first, unnerving, but Sakon soon proved himself to be simply harmless and amusing, though unusual.

He didn't notice that two pairs of eyes were watching him with more than puppets on their mind.

"Ne, mister, you're a puppet master then? My dad likes going to see puppet shows at festivals!"

"Nah," Said Ukon patting Sakon's cheek lazily. "This guy is studying to be a detective. Fat chance though. He's so useless, he needs my help to figure out how to tie his shoes!"

This was followed by a lot of laughing.

"So are you moving to America? I'm moving to LA!" One girl who was about six piped up, looking at the puppet hopefully. It would be cool if she could live near a puppet and a detective! It would be just like Sesame Street, or Domo-kun.

"Not moving really," said the puppet with his easy-going voice. "He's just staying there for a while to study."

"Aw, ya hafta study even when you're a grown up?" said a boy around nine.

"That's lame." A twelve year old grumbled, folding his arms over his chest.

"Yeah, but somethings are fun to study," Ukon said defensively.

"Nuh uh!"

"No way!"

Ukon surveyed the defiant, protesting audience, and then closed his eyes looking very solemn. "Dinosaurs."

And there was a burst of cheering. Dinosaurs were okay to study.

---

Tsuzuki and Hisoka exchanged glances.

"My god, it's so obvious. And in public too." Tsuzuki tsked. "He must not know."

Hisoka nodded, staring back at the puppet master who was the center of attention. "He's definitely channeling."

"I thought that technique had died out long ago."

They had their attention so focused on what Sakon was doing that they failed to notice that the clouds below had started to churn dangerously.

There was a polite bing! noise and an even more polite 'ahem' on the intercom.

"Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen. This is your captain speaking. Please turn your attention to the overhead sign and fasten your seat belts. We may be experiencing slight turbulence before landing."

Looks were exchanged, and there was a slight bump. It was a precursor of many to come, and of a far more violent nature.

Elsewhere, a man with silver hair smiled like a snake. "Good to see you again, brother."

---

After much incident, they landed. One might want to read about it, but for the most part it was a lot of shaking and bumping and general unpleasantness.

Outside there was a lot of wind, thunder and lightning and most of all i rain /i . It fell in sheets along the smoke-glass windows that gave the world even more of a blue-gray tint. Sakon stared out at 'sunny' California, feeling rather miserable and not just because he had been sick on the plane. The minute they had got off, he had made a beeline to the bathroom to change his shirt and wash his face and mouth.

He was being followed.

When he left the bathroom, he noticed a sandy haired teen with eyes green as fresh spring grass casting him a furtive glance. Sakon vaguely recognized the teen from the flight. Shrugging it off, he collected his luggage from the conveyor belt and hurried to the nearest pay phone to call a cab. He didn't notice the dark haired man in a black coat trailing behind him.

---

The rain hadn't let up when he got outside to wait for his cab under a large, overhanging roof. It was a cold rain, falling from bruise-colored clouds, and he was glad Ukon was safe in the black wooden box strapped to his back, because his traveling cloak was keeping very little of the windblown spray off.

When the cab pulled up, Sakon got inside and sagged in relief.

By the time the two Shinigami had followed him out the door, the cab was driving off, leaving the two staring at it anxiously.

"What the hell is one of those doing in Los Angeles?" Tsuzuki wondered aloud, kicking an empty, discarded coke can into the gutter.

"It may have something to do with Muraki." Hisoka said blandly.

"You think?"

"I don't know. This storm worries me though."

"You saw how those clouds were moving from the plane as well, huh?"

Hisoka nodded. "Like a summoning."

---

Leon Orcot trudged through the rain, cursing himself for never investing in an umbrella for when his car was in the shop and he didn't have enough money to pay for a cab because he was spending it all on sweets for that insufferable bastard, Count D. Case in point, the small box of of Llindt truffles that was getting increasingly damper and damper despite the shelter he was trying to provide in his jacket. He also cursed that Manti-thingie for clawing up his back seat, denting his roof from the inside, and biting his clutch stick clean off, hence the reason his car was in the shop to begin with. God, he had a hard time explaining that one to the hapless mechanic.

Leon had the day off. The Chief had been furious that he had run off the other day without a warning, and was too annoyed to even talk to the detective, so he told him to take the day off, and get whatever bug he had up his ass out.

Leon didn't know when he started using his days off to visit the Count. He had justified it as simply putting up the illusion of friendship, and hopefully the sweets he bought would loosen D's lips enough so that he could finally nail his ass to the wall.

Yeah. Good plan. ...God, he was getting drenched out here.

As he approached the shop, Leon hoped the Count wouldn't mind him coming in smelling like a wet dog. Well, he had chocolate to bribe him with. Damn good, damn _expensive_ chocolate at that. Ducking under a festively colored tarp overhang for some sales booth or another, he tugged the chocolates from out of his jacket and inspected them. The box was looking the worse for wear, but opening the lid, the round little delicacies had proved to be real troopers. Besides a few rain droplets, they had come through just fine. Good. The shop was just twenty feet away.

Sprinting through the rain, he skidded to a halt outside the door and to his shock, the door opened before he even touched the handle.

"Oh!" Said the man who had stepped out. "I beg your pardon." He was a tall man in his early thirties, and the first impression that Leon got was a whole lot of whole lot of gray.

...No. _Silver_.

The man who'd stepped out of the pet shop was goddamn silver. Not the shiny, clean silver like overpriced jewelry, but the grayish white you see the sky turns on a thinly overcast day. The man even had silver hair, and wore a whole lot of white. But it was a dead, grayish white. God, that entire get-up must have cost the man a small fortune. It was almost ghost like.

He peered at Leon over the rims of his glass and then the box sticking out of his jacket.

"Chocolates." He said, sounding a little amused and a whole lot patronizing. "How very quaint, and... traditional."

Leon scowled, tucking them back into his jacket and out of sight. The gray man was carrying a small cage with a red cloth over it. Something inside of it crooed.

"Did you just buy something from this shop?" Leon asked, suddenly feeling rather concerned. D's patrons had a tendency to turn up dead.

"Why yes, but the terms of the contract dictate that I am not to show the pet to someone else."

"Ah... good. Great." Leon yammered on. "Look, that contract? Just be sure to follow it all the way through. I've ah... dealt with those who haven't. They're not really the most satisfied customers in the world."

The gray man nodded. "I'm an old customer," he said tranquilly, looking at Leon with increasing distaste. "I know better than to break one of His Excellency's contracts. Though thank you for your concern. Good day to you."

Before Leon could keep him any longer, the man stepped out from the door completely and into the rain.

_Funny, _Leon thought, watching the man go. _He doesn't seem to be getting wet._

---

Descending the stairs into the shop, Leon wiped his muddy shoes off on the mat at the bottom.

"Hey D-D!" He called cheerfully. No answer. "Count?" He called again, feeling a little put off. He looked around. Various animals squawked, growled, or groaned. That ankle-biting sheeptiger Tet-chan, was nowhere to be found either. Nor was the batrabbit Q-Chan.

"Chris?" He called for his brother, wondering just what was going on. No answer.

He moved slowly, holding the small box close to his chest. Was anyone here? The door was unlocked, and a customer had just left, so D had to be somewhere.

Had something happened? Leon frowned, feeling a slight swell of anxiety in his chest. "Count?" He called a little more loudly. No reply.

But he was relieved when he heard the muffled sound of voices coming from behind a door.

Leon pressed his ear to the door, just to make sure he wasn't going to be walking in on anything, and recognized D's, and Chris's voices. They were slightly raised as if they were having a heated argument. Funny... his little brother never argued with D.

"I understand your concern Christopher Orcot," D said, and Leon winced. He never called Chris that unless he was scolding him. "But I cannot abide you, Tet-chan, Pon-chan and especially you Trilochana, going near that man. He is capable of terrible things, and while I am equipped to deal with him, you most certainly are not."

"_He seemed really friendly though._" Chris protested. Chris's voice sounded much fainter, but that's how it was when he spoke without words.

"He's very good at seeming." D retorted sharply. "Now go get some hot water. Trilochana's back is hurting her again."

There was a 'hmph', and the sound of feet hurrying away, and then a groan. It sounded like the voice Leon had heard the other day calling the Count 'D-D'.

There was a heavy sigh, the creak of furniture.

"I hate that man." He heard D say. "I know Grandfather approves of him, and his methods. But I hate him."

There was a melodious cooing noise from whatever was in the room. "I believe D-D when he says the man in white is not good."

Silence. And then D spoke again. "I hate to force this on you, but make sure that Chris and the others keep their distance when he comes here again. Don't look at me like that, I know he'll be back. After all, who else is going to supply him with his little killing machines to bait the Bureau?" He gave a bitter laugh, and Leon's blood ran cold. He was providing animals to bait the Feds?

"He must have been furious when I left Japan. He knows I don't want anything to do with him and still he pursues this shop." He made a little noise of frustration, and Leon wondered if D was actually being threatened.

_Don't jump to conclusions, Orcot. You don't want to arrest D yet._ And the reasoning part of his brain asked him 'Why not?'

He ignored it.

"I'll protect the nesteggs," said the sing-song voice. It must have been some kind of bird if it was talking about nests and eggs. "And I shall watch over great nestwing D-D." It added enthusiastically. So D was a great nestwing, hm? He grinned, noting to tease D about it, and then he remembered he did not want D knowing he was listening at his door. Nope. Nuh-uh. No way.

Leon stepped away from the door. Okay, D was possibly being threatened by some man in white. More than likely the man Leon had run into on his way to the shop. And that man could be assumed to be buying monstrosities from D to bait people from the FBI. Great. And he thought that this vampire-wannabe running around the city was weird shit.

Probably some pizza-faced goth kid taking his Anne Rice obsession a wee bit too far. But a Fed killer? Holy Hopping Christ on a cracker, that was bad news right there.

Leon moved a little ways from the door, and got to looking distracted like he hadn't heard anything, honest, and called for D again.

After a few seconds, Count D slipped out the door. He looked calm and composed as ever, but the way his brow was just a little furrowed Leon could tell he was feeling a little weary.

"Hey," Leon waved brightly. "I thought you weren't here. Or something bad might have happened 'cuz the door was unlocked." Well it wasn't a lie exactly. It just wasn't the whole truth.

D gave one of his little patronizing smiles, and Leon cringed. "Oh, Mr. Detective! Were you worried about little old me?"

"Of course not." Leon snapped. "Here. Now shaddup."

He thrust the sodden box of chocolates at D, feeling a little annoyed with himself because he _had _been worried.

Just a teensy, weensy bit.

"Detective, what am I going to do with a wet box of..." D cut himself off as he saw the label, and took them with a squeal of delight. "Truffles! Oh my dear Detective, how ever did you know? They're my _favourite_!"

He led Leon into the back room where he set the chocolates down on the coffee table. There was a very old vase with a huge bouquet of red roses in it. Leon recognized them as Queen Elizabeths, as the same kind had been left at the crime scenes in the 'vampire' case. He knew they must cost a fortune, but he never knew D to be the flower type unless he was actually planting something. The Count didn't bode well with plants that had been cut from their roots.

"Gotta secret admirer?" Leon asked, indicating the roses. Red roses meant 'passion' or in Leon's opinion, more accurately meant 'Me. In your pants. Now.' (Or in D's case, dress). That much Leon knew from his days of trying to woo chicks with flowers.

D had tensed just a little outside the door to the kitchen. Leon could occasionally see Chris going by carrying buckets from the sink with steam coming off the top.

"No." Said the Count. "They were a gift from a customer. Someone I hadn't seen in a while."

"You mean the guy who was just leaving?" Leon asked. D gave him a look. "I stopped him to warn him that he should stick to the contract," Leon said hastily, and D just rolled his eyes. "Don't look at me in that tone of voice!" Leon huffed. "You know what happens when customers here break their contracts. He just said he knew you. That's all."

D gave a resigned sigh, and nodded. "Yes, Mr. Kazutaka is a very old customer. He's been purchasing animals from me for quite sometime, and he's friendly with my Grandfather. I cannot say I am fond of the man."

Leon felt himself grinning. He didn't know why. "What did you sell him? A man-eating chipmunk?"

"A three-eyed cockatoo." D said easily. "If that's all for now, I'd like to make tea. Chris, that's enough water to float a ship! Goodness, what am I going to do with you? Go see your brother. And take Tet-chan and Pon-chan with you. I need you out of the kitchen to make tea what with all these buckets everywhere! Honestly, I can't even trust you to bring hot water to a nesting Siren."

Chris trudged out of the kitchen looking rubbed the wrong way. He had that raccoon in one arm, a bucket in the other and that sheeptiger was following him looking equally dreary.

"Hey, lemme help you with that," Leon said, taking the bucket from his relieved younger brother.

"_Thanks_," Chris said without words, hugging Pon-chan in both arms now.

"How ya been?" Leon asked, ruffling Chris's hair.

"_Good_," Chris grinned, giving Pon-chan an extra hug. He lowered his voice to a whisper, looking hastily at the kitchen door. "_He's been in a really bad mood since the Siren came here. She's really grouchy too. And that guy who brought him flowers made him even more grumpy. Which is weird, 'cuz the guy told me he was a really old friend. I thought the Count'd be happy to see old friends._"

Leon took this in as best he could.

"Why's he got a grouchy Siren? ...Wait... aren't they some sort of critter from that story, about that guy who was in a war and took like, ten years to sail home?" His face creased as he remembered vaguely the footnotes he read for the Odyssey way back in high school. "Don't those things lure people to their death!" He nearly shouted, rising from his seat.

"_I don't think Trilochana has ever lured anyone to their death. I mean, it's impossible not to listen to her when she sings, but she's usually just complaining that her back hurts and her ankles are swollen. Or her pillow's too lumpy. Or it's too soft. Or-_"

"Sounds like she's pregnant," Leon said, rolling his eyes. He remembered when their mom had been pregnant with Chris. God, that had been an ordeal.

Chris nodded enthusiastically. "_The Count says she's going to lay an egg soon. He cleaned a room out for her so he's close by when it happens._"

"Cool. Baby animals. Great." Leon rolled his eyes, and he was about to press Chris for more information about this Kazutaka guy when Count D came back in carrying a tea tray.

"Glad to see you're taking an interest in the animals," D said, setting the tray down. "Trilochana is, quite frankly, a handful."

As D poured the steaming tea into two fine china cups he peered up at Leon and gawked.

"You're drenched!"

"You noticed." Leon said flatly, taking his cup.

"Not on my sofa, not on my sofa! Up up up! I'm getting you a towel. Christopher, get your slovenly brother a change of clothes. There's bound to be something in the hall closet that will fit him. I SAID NOT ON MY SOFA, YOU BRUTE!"

Leon got up hastily, looking a little guilty. _The Count must be really distracted if it took him that long to notice I'm soaked. A pregnant bird-lady can't be all that distracting. Not for this guy anyway. It's gotta be something else..._

---

The clothes fit. Leon was loathe to admit it but they fit. Thank god they weren't one of those funny dress things the Count always wore, but goddammit, Leon Orcot was an all-American man. Chinese attire, no matter how black, and how cool the dragon down the front was, well... it was not made for someone like Leon Orcot.

But it was dry, and it stopped the Count from fussing if he so much as tried to touch something. His clothes were hanging over the sink in the kitchen, and he could just hear the faint drip-dripping noises.

"So what brings you to my humble little abode today, Detective? You certainly never indulge me in something like..." He delicately picked up a creamy white truffle with flecks of brown between a thumb and index finger and surveyed it, relishing it's simple elegance, "...white chocolate truffle with..." he took a bite and very nearly moaned. Leon cringed. Sure he had tried a free sample and it had been like an orgasm on his tastebuds and... okay well, maybe D was entitled to making those noises, because Leon almost had too and he wasn't even the biggest fan of chocolate, but not in front of Chris for crying out loud!

"...mmm," the Count damn well purred, "Dark chocolate mousse filling. Delicious. You must have a very... troublesome... case on your hands." He took a sip of his tea, washing down the chocolate. Chris was staring at the box in awe and the Count noticed.

"Chistopher, do have one. And take one for Pon-chan and Trilochana. And give Trilochana hers last, or she'll take all of them, the greedy little thing."

Chris thanked the Count, taking three of the truffles and running off to go share with the raccoon.

Leon gave D a grateful smile. He hated talking about work with his brother in hearing range.

"Don't really have much of anything going besides some guy who thinks he's a vampire. You see the headlines? Some bastard let it leak to the press."

D nodded. "I heard about it. They're calling it the Count Dracula case."

"Hey D, does-"

"The 'D' does not stand for 'Dracula' and I do not drink blood. You know very well I'm a vegetarian, Mr. Detective. And I haven't sold any pets that would behave in a matter of leaving two puncture marks on the neck and draining all the blood in the body. All my Norwegian Green Vampire bats are accounted for."

"Oh." Leon managed, rather surprised. "Well, that clears that up, I geuss."

"Is the case bothering you?" D asked casually, eating another truffle.

Leon waited for the moans to subside before he answered. "Not really. Just the press it's getting and the panic it causes."

"It is their first amendment right, you know." D reasoned, but his heart wasn't in it.

"Yeah, they should make an amendment saying something along the lines of 'not during the investigation so you can warn the perp and he can run off to Mexico or Canada or whatever,' and-"

D raised a finger, and Leon quieted and sat back against a rather squishy cushion. "If I may Detective, I will say I completely agree. But that is the law and as long as it's the way it is, you must work within it's confines."

"Yeah, but... yeah. Guess so. It's just frustrating, 'cuz it fucks with the evidence and they're noisy and I just don't like 'em."

"If it gives you any comfort, neither do I. And watch your language. Really, you wouldn't be half the slob that you are if someone had washed your mouth out with soap."

They sat in silence for a while. It was a pleasant sort of silence, one of the rare kinds Leon found he didn't need to fill with idle chatter. He could sit. And think.

"Hey Count," Leon said tentatively, breaking the silence.

"Yes Detective?" D replied, licking some truffle off of his fingers.

"You mentioned you have some sort of Greek bird that's preggers here. Is that what called you D-D the other day?"

The Count gave an exasperated sigh and set down his tea cup on its saucer. The fine china made a sharp little clinking noise and he just sort of glared at Leon.

"Mr. Detective, I put up with Trilochana's nonsense because she is pregnant, and pregnant Sirens are prone to being violent. I would not be keeping her in the shop at all if the deadbeat for a father hadn't run off somewhere. For the sake of my sanity, I will ask that you do not mimic her less-than-savory little quirks or I shall throw you both out into the streets."

Leon grinned. "So you do have a Greek bird that's preggers and calls you D-D."

Count D gave him a withering look, but threw his arms into the air in defeat. "I suppose you want to see for yourself."

"Cool!" Said Leon, because he was just going to ask if he could. He actually kinda-sorta knew what Sirens were, so it would definitely be cool to see one pregnant.

---

It wasn't nearly as cool as he had been expecting. Sure, like everything in D's little pet shop the Siren was a fantastic creature, but not nearly as interesting as the unicorn thing that D called a Kirin. But definitely more interesting than say, a rabid, ankle-biting sheeptiger.

She just sort of lay there with interchangeable groans, complaints about her back hurting, or demands for chocolates. She was really starting to remind him of his mom when she was pregnant with Chris. If only she started asking for pickles, a pint of Chubby Hubby ice cream and black coffee instead of chocolate...

"When's she due?" He asked, just to make conversation as he helped D fluff a few cushions.

"When she starts building a nest. It shouldn't be long since this it's been two summers since she took her first mate."

Leon took a moment to comprehend D's unusual ways of wording things. "You're telling me she's been pregnant for two years?"

"Sirens incubate the egg internally for two years, and the males for another six months externally." D explained.

"Awful long time to deal with morning sickness and weird cravings," Leon murmured, remembering his mother again.

"If her mate hadn't run off, she'd have found a cave to roost in. But as the situation stands, she's the only one who can be with her egg when it's laid. So, she sought out someone who could help her, and now I have the wonderful task of keeping her fed and sheltered until it hatches." The way D said 'wonderful' made Leon believe he actually meant 'positively frustrating', and shot Trilochana a thumbs up when D's back was turned. She just clucked at him and shut her eyes. Anything that made D annoyed enough to loose his cool, calm, I-know-more-than-you-do composure was a-okay in his book.

D shot Leon a look. "I saw that."

Leon pretended to be innocent. "Saw what?"

"I hope you know, in Greece, thumbs up traditionally means 'kill'." D said with a thin smile.

Leon took one look at those large, curved talons on her feet, remembered Jurassic Park, and quickly amended his previous gesture with a thumbs down.

The Siren simply looked confused and grumpy, and went back to sleep.

"But since she's a Siren she has no idea what either one means." D added, smug as ever.

It was Leon's turn to glower.

---

Jill was working at her desk on this vampire case. What sort of weird fuck kills people and drains all the blood out their body?

Maybe some nut job from one of those Red Cross blood drives...

Two girls. Early twenties. Puncture marks, red roses, and notes promising a million roses when next they meet. Jill wondered if this guy (or chick) was trying to set up a harem in the afterlife? Creepy.

Forensics had picked up silver hairs and fibers from a white designer coat costing more money than Jill had ever seen in her entire life. It was going to take a while to get the DNA data back to the precinct, but Jill was already making a picture in her mind. Rich, Caucasian male, in his late fifties to mid-sixties, good health, a thing for Anne Rice.

Right.

She sighed, taking a long drought from lukewarm coffee that had been sitting on her desk for the past two hours, and gagged.

Gingerbread latte tasted good when hot. But only when hot.

"Hey Greg!" Jill batted her eyes at a junior officer who was thumbing through a folder. He looked up and immediately went a little pink in the cheeks.

"H-hey, Jill!" He managed, though ended up dropping the folder when he tried to wave. "Ah!"

"Hey, I'll take care of that for ya," She said, getting up and gathering the papers. "Could you run to the coffee shop down the street and grab me something caffeinated with chocolate, sugar and whipped cream thrown into the mix?" She handed him a twenty and grinned. "Get something for yourself too. You look dead on your feet." Poor kid was probably working overtime again. You had to keep an eye on those rookies, and Greg was a nice kid, shaping up to be a decent officer though he was a little absentminded.

---

Greg put Jill's change in his breast pocket to keep it from getting mixed up with his own money before he took his coffee from the cardboard holder and took a sip. God that was good, especially in the cold rain. Hurrying towards the station, he didn't notice when the beast sprung from the alley.

He couldn't tell what kind of animal it was. There was just a lot of fur and claws and teeth. Something caught him in the stomach, and he felt numb. Then, everything went black. Then nothing.

Gregory Miles disappeared.

---

End of Chapter 2

---

A/N: Ho ho, a quick chapter 2. Ho crap it felt good to get that out of my system, especially with all the stress of exams. ManscreamsanddieslikeWTFOMG.

Still, shit is getting' DONE. Which is definitely a good thing, because I have a lot of shit to do and codsarnit, I need caffeine not alcohol shakes fist at Liz for bringing like, a bajillion bottles of really good liquor that is way too hard for lightweights of the likes of Keely, Kerri-Bear and I!

So yeah! Chapter two!

To pass the broccolini: Normalcy and Normal are actually both correct. I believe that 'normalcy' was a word made up by either President Wilson or Harding with regards to how things should be returning to after the first World War. I haven't cracked an American history text in a while so I could be wrong, but I know it was made up by one of the Presidents.

C&C Welcome. You know the drill.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3: Snake Eyes**

---

As soon as they finished unpacking, Tsuzuki flopped down face-first onto the cushy single-sized mattress.

"M'bushed." He said in passable English. Hisoka sighed, flopping down onto his own bed. After two drops of some foul-tasting plant extract the Count of the Hall of Candles had given them, the young Shinigami found himself mildly surprised that he was speaking and understanding a completely different language.

About one drop was equivalent to twelve hours and they had taken it just before Tsuzuki called a cab to the hotel.

The jet lag was going to be hell.

"Hey Tsuzuki," Hisoka said, fighting the urge to take a nap.

"Nngh...?" Tsuzuki was giving into sleep already.

"Never mind." The younger Shinigami said grumpily and rolled onto his side, also giving into the sweet temptation of sleep.

"Nnghay."

---

Hisoka was the first to wake up from his nap and he checked the electric clock on the bedside table.

7:56 PM blinked back at him all bright red. The setting sun cast an orange glow around the hotel room, and Hisoka headed for the sliding glass doors. He wasn't going to think about Muraki.

Pushing them open as quietly as he could, Hisoka squeezed out through the crack and onto the balcony. The Balcony wasn't much, just concrete and a rusting iron rail that had once been painted white. The paint was chipping and stained orange and brown, and when Hisoka rested his hands on it, more of it flaked off and fluttered down into the busy street below. He wasn't going to think about Muraki.

He stared out over the skyline and sighed, taking in the city noises, catching snatches of conversation he shouldn't have been able to understand. He looked at the sky instead. And the sky looked like it was on fire.

He wasn't going to dare think about Muraki.

It was probably just the pollution from the city that made it look so orange, like it had been painted by an enthusiastic amateur. Orange sky, purple clouds, and big ball of yellow right on the horizon. At least the rain had let up which was nice. But it left the air muggy and the sun made it hot. He wasn't going to think about Muraki.

He turned to go back inside, because he didn't take well to heat, and he especially didn't take well to heat and humidity. He had turned too quickly though, because he couldn't stop himself from walking right into the man behind him.

Tsuzuki looked down, mildly surprised as Hisoka made contact. He was about to say something, maybe apologize, but he felt something damp soaking through his shirt and Hisoka was just standing there, head pressed against the taller Shinigami's ribcage.

It must have been the jet lag making him feel a little moody, Hisoka reassured himself, just the lack of sleep, too much work. Because he wasn't thinking about Muraki and how much he hated the color red.

---

Sakon set his suitcase down as he stepped into his small flat. It was nothing spectacular, but it was sanitary. Sparse would best describe it, in fact. No furniture, though there were a few boxes of necessities from home (mostly just puppets he looked after). A kitchen connected to a small living room and a small corridor with the bathroom on the right, a closet to the left, and the door to his bedroom at the end.

But it was _his_. Not something he had inherited from bygone relatives, but something he had worked for and earned with his own effort. Sliding Ukon's box off his back, he rested it by the suitcase, and then his traveling coat followed suite.

He'd eat out tonight, and go shopping tomorrow. Kaoruko had given him quite a bit of money, so he considered getting some furniture and lamps from a second hand store. That would mean he'd have to hire a vehicle...

As he added up the estimated costs, he checked the sink and the refrigerator, and found the hot water and electricity to be working. The refrigerator made creaky noises and the sink dripped, but things worked. The living room had a musty old carpet that smelled of dust. It probably had been white once but now it had turned gray with age. Still, it had been vacuumed and it was still squishy. Pleased, he sat down on it, leaned forward to pull Ukon's box to him and removed the redhaired puppet.

"We're home."

---

"It looks like the rain stopped," D said peeking out the door. "It's muggy though. Would you like to stay 'till dark when the air outside cools down a bit?" He turned to look at Leon, but the detective was already at the bottom of the stairs.

"I hate humidity," he grumped.

The shop was decidedly cooler than outside, and Leon was damn sure to take advantage of it since the clunky old air conditioner at his flat was a little more than run-down.

"You know, I read up on Manticores." Leon said idly.

D raised a brow. "Oh really? Well, I suppose you'd have to learn to read to graduate police academy but till now I've had my doubts."

"Oh that was all kinds of funny." Leon scowled, making himself at home on the couch. "All the descriptions I read though didn't really suit the one I gave a lift here. They're supposed to be red and have bat wings and just the head of a human not the torso."

D arched a brow at him, setting down a porcelain cup with iced chai and a bit of lemon. He'd been in the mood for Indian delicacies lately. "I'm impressed. Yes, Manticores are generally as you described them. That one that you brought looked to be a mixed breed. Judging by the yellow and brown colouring, I'd say a Manticore crossed with a Sphinx."

Leon considered this, tapping his chin lightly. "Like in Oedipus?"

"Not only is he literate, he's read a classic," D exclaimed in genuine surprise.

_Or just the footnotes,_ Leon thought, but decided not to mention it.

"Sphinxes and Manticores share a common ancestor. It's not surprising they can breed together. And considering that both species are dying out, I wouldn't be surprised if their mixing blood to make a more hearty and adaptable animal to live on. Save two birds with one egg so one might say."

"So a creature more hearty-"

"-And more intelligent. Manticores are cunning, but Sphinxes are wise beyond measure. Both species have long-lived civilizations and empires affiliated with them. India, Greece, Egypt, England."

"Okay, so a Manticore that's more hearty and smarter than your average Manticore is running loose around L.A.?"

"That's about the size of it."

"On top of a serial killer..." Leon groaned.

Count D sat down across from Leon with great dignity. "As you are probably aware, Manticores are ferocious predators, but they are not serial killers. If this creature goes after people, you will have a hard time tracking it down. There will be no pattern to who it kills, or where they are killed. Manticore territories are expansive, far larger than a city. That creature can fly, but it is at home underground as it is in the air. It will leave no evidence. You will find no bodies, because Manticores devour their victims wholly and completely."

"So what do you suggest?" Leon asked, brow knitting. "How do we stop it?"

_'We'...? _D thought, mildly surprised.

"It is looking for something I am supposed to have. An egg of Manjula, though I don't know any Manjula. I daresay it will return here."

Leon sighed. "Leave it in your hands, huh?"

"You have much worse monsters to deal with than a hungry animal far from home."

Leon took a moment to think that over. Just an animal, far from home. He took a gulp of his tea, wondering if the creature even knew better. Could you try a Manticore for murder? Or would it be caged and put down? He doubted if he'd find anything on the rights of Manticores in any law document.

_Wise beyond measure..._ he turned that over and over in his head. The animal was obviously sentient, maybe more-so than a human. _A dying race..._ he thought, taking a drought of the iced chai. _...And all they have between them and mankind is D._

He looked at D's face that betrayed no age. Not a line, not a crease. Flawless, ageless. But Leon looked closer and thought for just a second, _He looks so very, very old._

But his thoughts couldn't linger on this observation. The scream from outside sent Leon bolting back up the stairs, trailed by a puzzled D.

---

Jill treaded the cracked sidewalk in Chinatown with a fair bit of trepidation. The fog after the rain caused the city to glow orange in the evening light, but that's not what worried her. She couldn't put her finger on it, but it made her wish she was wearing something more practical than a short skirt and heels.

She gripped the handle of her briefcase a little tighter, her eyes darting back and forth. It seemed so... empty. Usually Chinatown was bustling at any given area. Especially around here, since that Count D had so many friends.

But the streets were deserted. Could this really be the same place? She had visited Count D before, usually to drag Leon back during his lunch break, and the area was bustling. This quiet was unnerving. But Leon would need these files, not to mention they would be hosting an intern in a few days. He'd probably forgotten about it.

She picked up her pace a little, but she couldn't shake the feeling something was watching her.

---

She was being watched.

A man in the shadows of an ally pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, and smiled.

"She's suitable." He said, scratching his new favourite killing machine behind the ears. It's scorpion-like tail only twitched a little. "Not for you," he said to the beast.

"For me."

---

There was D's shop, right up ahead and... well the street wasn't so deserted. A man in a white trench coat was busying with the opened hood of his car. A trail of smoke was coming out of his engine and he looked sincerely distressed.

Jill cast a hopeless glance at the entrance to D's shop. Well, she was right nearby. It couldn't hurt to be a good cop.

"'Scuse me!" She called, crossing the street to the man. He looked up, his one visible gray eye wide as if she had alarmed him, though his face relaxed into a smile. "Sorry," she said hastily. "Just wondering if you're alright."

"Fine," he said a little breathlessly. "Just not the best place for a Bently to break down and my cell phone's batteries to die on me."

Jill rolled her eyes, and reached into her pocket for a cell phone. While the place wasn't the poshest part of Chinatown, the crime rate was pretty low. But to wealthy looking sods like this, anything without a white picket fence was-

She paused, looking the man over. Gray hair, white coat, wealthy...

..._Shitshitshitshitshit..._ she thought, carefully loosening her gun in case she'd need it.

"Oh I don't think so my dear," he purred with a voice like poison. And then something struck her from behind. She had enough time to turn to see what it was; Gregory Miles stared back at her with horrible blue eyes, slit down the middle like a cat's. She had enough time to scream before she was out cold and dragged away.

---

"Blood," Leon said frantically, head darting to and fro. Count D was staring straight ahead at the alleyway where the red trail was leading.

But then the blood began to lift itself from the pavement, red droplets floating up around them, orbiting them, before converging into a ball in the air... and dispersing into nothing.

Leon was already hurrying down the alleyway, though D lingered staring at where the blood had disappeared.

"A blood rite..." he whispered hoarsely. "...he can't be planning...?" And he took off after Leon.

---

"Jill! Oh god, Jill, talk to me!"

Leon lifted his limp partner upright. This was wrong, all wrong. It couldn't be Jill. Jill wasn't that pale, that lifeless.

He fumbled for his phone, and dialed an ambulance, beads of sweat rolling down his face.

"Yeah, I need an ambulance here. I have an officer down. Repeat, an officer down!" He gave them the address as he was advised not to move the body.

_Too late,_ he thought. _It's too late..._

---

_Help me..._

Sakon bolted upright from the makeshift futon in his bedroom, though settled a little when all he was met with was the dark silence. He could hear the city outside, and a half-moon cast a pale glow through his window, along with the oranges, reds and yellows from the flickering neon signs outside. But these noises and lights only seemed to amplify the dark silence, and for the first time Sakon felt horribly, terribly alone.

"Ukon?" He breathed softly, the fine dark hairs on the back of his neck bristling. He was trembling, his heart pounding in his chest like a baby birds, and goose pimples all up his arms and legs. For the first time Ukon didn't answer.

He chanced a glance at the old stainless steel alarm clock ticking away softly to itself and froze. His eyes traveled up the length of the thing in front of him, covered in blood and impaled with various medical instruments. Under the torn clothing he could see the body had been horribly mutilated, covered in claw marks. There was no face though. Just a bare, bloody skull, it's empty sockets staring down at him.

He gave a sharp intake of breath and scrambled to his feet, backing towards the light switch.

In a blink of an eye and the florescent overheads, the thing had gone. But in it's place there was writing all over the walls, red, wet and horrible.

**I CAN SEE YOU. CAN YOU SEE ME?**

Sakon winced, looking away as his knees gave out under him and he fell to the carpeted floor.

When he looked up, the writing had gone.

---

Twyla Elliot was a whole eleven years old today, and she got stuck with her little brother and his running nose. Lyle was four and a half, which meant he was old enough to talk but not quite old enough to talk about anything interesting. Twyla didn't particularly like her brother, but they ended up going everywhere together.

And now they were in the woods surrounding the south end of the old suburb. Most of the area was still underdeveloped, which made it ideal for Twyla. She was eleven years old and already a vegetarian (except for fish because they weren't cute and fuzzy). She had picked up her first copy of 'Teen Witch', painted her nails black, re-christened her lazy fat tabby George to 'Unicorn Star', and bought a proper silver pentacle with jewels at each point in the colour of the five elements (though she'd be disappointed to find that the piece that had cost her two weeks allowance was made of a cheep alloy and the gems were plastic). And she never missed an episode of Charmed. She was on her way to becoming a real-life Wiccan that could do real-life Magic_k_!

Now, Twyla wasn't a sensible child, but she was intelligent and observant. She had seen at a young age that there was a lot wrong with the world, and truly there were farworse things a child can be doing about itthan laying off hamburgers and running around outside in the woods and getting properly filthy as a means of 'Communing with the earth spirits'.

She didn't know you didn't need pewter jewelry, black nail polish, and misspelled words to do that.

But at the moment, she was in high spirits as she bent to tie her canvas sneakers. She was a plain girl who felt a little out of place because she didn't look like the mysteriously glamorous smiling girls on the cover of her book with their flowing golden locks, or shimmering ebony tresses. She had short brown hair that stuck up funny when the wind caught her from behind and braces on her teeth. And freckles. Lots, and lots of freckles.

The Coven would be assembling today and three o-clock. That's how Eliza Garrison always wrote the e-mails, and usually only two or three girls got them in time to make the meeting. One or two others might trickle in a little later, but it was usually only Eliza, Twyla, Lyle, and a seventh-grader named Nancy.

The coven met under the 'White Tree', an old birch with moss growing up it. Eliza liked the tree because it was mysterious and old. Twyla liked it because she could get a great view of the whole wooded area by climbing to the top. Lyle liked it because he was convinced it was a gummy bear tree.

"Now Lyle, I'm going to go up there and pick some gummy bears for you. But you mustn't tell mom or dad or especially Eliza that I go up in that tree or all the gummy bears will shrivel up and die." And she'd climb up to the top and throw the gummy bears she had stashed in her pockets down.

It had worked. Lyle called it the 'magic tree', which pleased Eliza to the point she had complimented him, and allowed him to come to meetings.

"He has potential." She'd said with all the airs and graces she thought a Coven leader should possess. So Twyla could babysit her brother without being ridiculed and Twyla's over-protective parents never knew she climbed a fifty-foot tree every saturday.

That afternoon the meeting had started at as usual with Eliza lighting candles on the five rocks they had rolled to the meeting point, and drew a pentacle in the dirt with the polished hardwood stick adorned with a polished piece of quartz and lots of feathers. Twyla thought, _if you look closely, they're hot-glued on._ Eliza called it her wand and she got it for a whole fifty dollars so it had to be full of mysterious magic.

_The wood is old,_ thought Twyla,_ old and dead. Far from it's birthplace, it's too scared to do anything. And the feathers are just for show. From a male turkey's tail no doubt. Real power is in the pinions, but you take those and a bird can never fly again. And quartz is as rare as dirt, and not half as powerful. Dirt is full of nutrients that brings life. That's not a wand. It's just a pretty, expensive toy held together cheaply._

She dismissed these thoughts. Nancy, Eliza, Twyla and Lyle had an important job to do. To gather herbs to make a love potion so all the cute boys at school would fall in love with them. They had split up, treading deep into the woods. Twyla knew you didn't get any herbs in the forest. The ground was covered in rotting leaves which were full of toxins and acids delicate plants like most of the herbs mentioned couldn't withstand. Not to mention there was hardly enough sunlight and some weren't even in season yet.

_Honestly, just open a book on botany. _She thought ruefully, helping Lyle untangle himself from a pricker bush. _Still, I get a nice hike out of it and maybe I'll get lucky._

She heard the snap of a twig somewhere to her side, and jumped out of her reverie. "Nancy?" She called. No answer. Must have been a squirrel.

Freeing Lyle, she tugged him along when she heard the snap of another twig, this time closer.

She whirled around, feeling in the pit of her stomach that the noise hadn't come from any small woodland creature or Nancy, or Eliza.

"You aren't funny, either of you!" she cried to empty air, her heart drumming in her ears.

"I am not here to be funny, two-legged nest-ling." A woman's voice hissed from behind. "Though another will be along shortly."

Twyla turned slowly, and her eyes locked on the creature. She didn't scream, though a hushed gasp of surprise and horror escaped her. The creature... it was all yellow like a lion only a person only a bird only a scorpion, all mixed up like she was made of leftover parts of different creatures all smoothly put together.

"Your companions will have bought you time. He likes to take his time with children. But you are the sixth rite, and though not matured your are woman enough to be satisfactory for the completion of it."

"I don't understand," Twyla squeaked hoarsely, hugging Lyle tight. "What are you talking about?"

"There is little time. We must fly."

"I'M NOT GOING ANYWHERE BUT HOME!"

"He will ensure that his quarry have no home to return to." The creature stared down at her with round, horrible blue eyes. But there was something else... pity? Sadness? "We must fly," the creature repeated though more gently, but there was an urgency in her voice. "I cannot fight him alone."

Twyla looked at the offered hand. It was a human hand, four fingers and a thumb, though the nails were long, hard and claw-like. She looked up and beyond the creature's shoulder she could see black smoke billowing up into the sky. She could smell the burning, and she suddenly felt quite frantic and scared as tears stung her eyes.

Her home, her town...

And then there was another sound, like something crashing through the undergrowth. Twyla spun on her heel to see what it was, lost balance and fell backwards into the creature along with her brother.

A man's face stared at her with the same blue eyes as the yellow creature's. He was surrounded by a silver mane, and a great silver lion's body with huge leathery wings and a scorpion's tail arched and ready to strike. But it didn't look quite right. Where the yellow creature's torso smoothly became a lion's body, and fur gave way flawlessly to feathers, this one looked as though it had inexpertly been put together.

The yellow creature's arms wrapped tightly around the girl and her brother.

"You're too late," she hissed, raising her hackles, "the child is under my protection. The rite ends here."

The silver creature gave a furious snarl that sounded like the blare of hundreds of trumpets, and the other, the female gave a derogatory laugh. "Has serving the two-legger made you so stupid that you lost your ability to speak?" She peered closer, and her fanged smile became a frown. "No," she hissed softly. "Not a Manticore. Man made. A Chimera. Shabby work too." She stared the creature in it's blue eyes. "I'm sorry," the Manticore uttered to the Chimera. "I'm so sorry, whoever you were before. But it will end. Now."

Twyla and Lyle were terrified into silence, huddling closer to the Manticore as wisps of white spun alongside the Chimera. "It will end," a low voice said tranquilly, "though it will end with my victory, Amita. Give me the girl." A man all in white stepped out of the pale wisps of smoke. He had blood all down his front and he gave Amita a look that could only be constituted loathing.

In one swoop, Twyla found she and her brother scooped up and shoved roughly between the creature's wings. "Take her if you can, two-legger."

At that moment, many things happened at once. Amita turned her back on the man and the Chimera and started running down the slope, Twyla held on tightly to her brother and the creature's stomach, the Chimera charged and the man threw a spell at the Manticore.

Twyla felt a rush of air, and certain that she was dead, cracked open her eyes.

They were airborne, and from here she could see her town blazing red. Crowds were frantic in the streets and red fire engines were sailing down the streets. She could just make out the jets of water trying to put out the flames. Shivering, she hugged her brother. Nancy and Eliza were...

---

..._safe._ The Shinigami was panting, the huge gash down his front already healing. He was a tall, lanky man with scruffy red hair, and grayish brown eyes. He looked to be in his early twenties and wore a brown, pinstripe suit, an umber vest, white collar shirt, and a silk tie with a little gold pin. His derby had fallen to the ground, and his suit was positively ruined.

"Y'gel's all right then?" He asked, glancing over his shoulder. The two trembling middle-schoolers looked at him in horror. He looked down at the wound and the puddle of his blood he was standing in. Well, it might come as a wee bit of a shock to them...

"M'alright." He reassured, patting the rapidly closing wound albeit somewhat gingerly. "Had much worse before. But best be off if you two are all present and intact. Run along, quick as you like. Your houses are burning down and your parents'll be worried sick. No worries about your little friend, I'll make sure he doesn't harm a hair on her wee heid."

And he was gone in the direction the man in the white coat had run when they had heard what sounded like Twyla yelling.

"He was going to kill us," Nancy uttered hoarsely. "That ghost man..."

"We're okay." Said Eliza, suddenly feeling more responsible than she ever had in her entire life. She looked down at the wand she was clutching. _Such a silly, cheap thing._

She tossed it aside, and helped Nancy get shakily to her feet. "Let's go."

"Home...?" Nancy whispered, trembling.

"Home." Eliza reassured, and looked up at the tree. _Did you send him? That man in the derby?_

And against all reason, Eliza felt something smile at the back of her mind. '_Yes._'

---

**A/N:** Wow, it's been a while since I last updated. Sorry about that, but school comes first and all that jazz.

First and foremost, I would like to say 'thank you' to those who reviewed this. Your comments and criticism are much, much, much appreciated, and I'm sorry for being so slow about this chapter.

I don't like this chapter. Mostly because it's rather dark, though considering the three series crossed over, I kind of figured it was going to take a turn to the dark side soon, but.. well, not this dark. I also spent a bit too much time on Twyla, though I wanted to get her developed fairly early since for the rest of the story her appearances will be brief.


	4. Chapter 4

**Warnings:** Usual warnings apply. Mild shounen-ai, Leon's dirty mouth, implied violence and dark themes, innuendo, return of Ninja!Watari, random OCs, and a rampaging succubus.

**Disclaimer** (because for the last three chapters I've forgotten _Facepalm_): Usual disclaimer applies. Not mine, never will be. OCs mine, can do whatever I want with them and theymay be recycled for later use in roleplays.

**Chapter 4: Russian Roullete**

Ralph Klein died in 1933 and became a Shinigami shortly after. He was a short, balding man with a fussy gray mustache and a bushy gray beard. He wore thin-rimmed spectacles and had droopy blue eyes. He always wore a brown suit, with a pocket watch and walked upright. He gave the impression of being a man who was perpetually smoking a pipe and reading an old book even when he wasn't. Ralph Klein was a brilliant man and during his life he had been a wealthy private detective in Tennessee. He had come to California in his thirties, and died in his mid-forties. Though he had been very libertine during his time, he still retained some influence from his father and often came across as a traditional southern gentleman (albeit unintentionally). At the moment he was heading for the hotel his superiors had informed him the Shinigami from Japan would be staying at.

He was in a rather bad mood this evening since his partner Micheal Phenninger had run off without warning. Phenninger was smart as a whip, and probably the best partner Klein had for a long time, but the man was impulsive to a fault. The Irish Shinigami got in more trouble than was truly necessary.

Bypassing the front desk without being noticed, Ralph took the lift to the 6th floor, took a turn to the left corridor, and stopped outside of room 614. Taking off his black top-hat, the orange lights in the halls reflecting off his large, shiny bald spot, the Shinigami tapped politely on the door.

He was surprised when a boy of about 16 answered.

"Can I _help _you?" the sandy-blonde haired boy ground out through gritted teeth. Well, thought Ralph indignantly, someone got up on the wrong side of the bed.

"Yes," he said with dignity, "I'm looking for a..." he produced a small piece of notepaper where his chief had written down the names of the foreign Shinigami. "...er...Hai-soh-kay Kuh-ruh-sacky, and a Tuh-Su-Zu-Kai Ass-ah-to?" Ralph Klein was a bright man, but he always had trouble with names. He gave Hisoka an apologetic smile.

Hisoka groaned. Having his name mispronounced at him hadn't improved his mood, but the man looked like he had sincerely tried. "Yeah, I'm Hisoka. Hisoka Kurosaki. Tsuzuki's still..." The young man rounded on a shut door that was probably the bathroom. "...DAMMIT ASATO, HURRY UP IN THERE!"

There was a wailing, followed by a crash and some swearing. Ralph gave a polite little cough, and Hisoka shook his head in exasperation. "Sorry, he always does this. Come in, and have some coffee."

Ralph suddenly felt for the young Shinigami. It was true Phenninger had died young, but this boy wasn't even an adult when he'd lost his life. The former-detective had a feeling that the circumstances of his death were especially unpleasant, because rarely anyone so young could have enough regret to become, essentially, undead.

"Why thank you kindly young man," he drawled as pleasantly as he could. "I take two sugars and a bit of cream in mine. And apologies that I'm all on my own today. My partner Micheal got caught up in other business-"

"It's fine." Hisoka dismissed flatly, setting down the coffee. "Let's get down to business. I can fill Tsuzuki in later."

Ralph nodded, opening the brown satchel and setting a manila folder down on the tabletop. "You've pro'lly got all this stuff already," he said as Hisoka flipped through the files. "But there's been two other attacks we suspect to be associated with this Muh-racky fellow." He produced two other files. "Both LAPD officers, found yesterday. The man was identified as Gregory Miles. Here's how he was found at the crime scene, and this is how he looked when he still had his face on."

Hisoka looked at the crime-scene photos. It was brutal work, various medical instruments impaled the man's limbs, nailing him to a wall. His face had been surgically removed and there were garlands of roses all over. Hisoka shuddered, and looked at the otherphoto of the man.

He was pretty good looking, with dark, neatly combed hair and a bit of a cleft chin. He was smiling, sitting outside with a big golden retriever and a boy who looked like he had just started high school. The boy must have been his younger brother, because he was a dead ringer for what could be a younger Gregory, though his hair was shorter and gelled into spikes.

"Has someone told his family?" Hisoka asked softly.

Ralph nodded. "Greg was a rookie, but he had a knack for the job. He was moving up fast, and was well-liked. Same with the lady Jill, but she got lucky."

"Lucky how?" Hisoka wondered.

"Lived. Barely, but she was on her way to visit her partner who spends a lot of time with a petshop owner and they heard her scream. Got there before he could finish. Lost a lot of blood, but she's on an I.V. and should regain consciousness sometime in the morning."

"A witness. Muraki's gotten sloppy." Hisoka murmured, looking over the photo. "...Or it's something else."

"Hmm?" Ralph was interested.

"Beneath all his tricks and magic, Muraki's a textbook case of a Sociopath. A charming, alluring front to hide the cold, calculating murderer. He's obsessed with dominance and power, and feels no remorse for those he has to hurt and kill to get it. He doesn't make mistakes, and he certainly doesn't leave a job half-finished. This woman is still up to her eyeballs in trouble. She's just being used as bait."

"There are officers stationed outside her room, day and night." Ralph replied levelly.

"How many?" Hisoka asked, looking up from the photo of Jill hugging a woman who looked to be in her early fifties Probably her mother. They had the same big smile.

"Six."

"All dead." Hisoka answered simply. "If Muraki even bothers with the entrance, that is. Which he might, just to go for spectacle. Or it'd be bad manners not to."

Ralph was impressed. This boy certainly had the mind for this kind of work.

Hisoka carefully gathered up Gregory's file and put everything away neatly. "Don't let my partner see this yet. He sometimes has trouble coping with these things. I need his head clear for a bit because I want him to talk to this woman's partner, the petshop owner and her if possible. I can talk to Mrs. Miles, her husband, and son. I don't think they'll know anything, but it's best to leave no stone unturned."

"What'd I miss?" Came a heavily accented voice from the door.

"Where have you been, boy?" Ralph said dryly. "I just went over everything with Mr. Kurosaki here."

"Had a run-in with that malarkey doctor nut job." Micheal stated plainly, indicating the bloodstained gash in his clothing. "He was goin' after a wee chit of a gel, but somethin' got to her first. Carried her off an' away, then he skankered leavin' me feelin' the fool." He took off his derby, and plopped down in a seat without waiting for an invitation. "Micheal Phenninger," he said offering a hand to Hisoka who just gave him a skeptical glare. Micheal's grin faltered, and he lowered the offered hand. Sitting back and kicking his feet up on the table, the grin returned with a vengeance. "Still, somethin' had that doc worried. I'm goin' out on a limb and sayin whatever carried that gel off has every intention o' makin' things go not-so-smooth for the good doctor. Oh hey, ye gotta pot o' coffee on!" And he was on his feet once more, helping himself to a mug and the last of the coffee.

Ralph had his face buried in the palm of his hand. Hisoka was sitting quite still, rather shocked not only the man's less-than-savory manners, but also the sheer rapid-fire way he talked. He was still trying to get Micheal's rant to sink in.

"Looked like a Sphinx that took her. Muraki had this sorta Manticore thingy. Or a Chimera that was hand-crafted to look like one. Not well made. When the Sphinx took off, I thought the Chimera was gonna follow, but 'is wings'd pro'lly drop off he ever got airborne. So he and the doc just vamoosed." He plopped himself right back down, feet on table and producing a small metal canteen from his waist-coat pocket. Unscrewing the cap,he poured some amber coloured liquid into the cup, took a swig from the canteen before replacing the cap and stuffing it back in his pocket while smacking his lips in approval. "Ah, good stuff."

Ralph just groaned, and all Hisoka could do was stare in horrified fascination. Had Tatsumi been there, all Hell would have broken loose.

"Did you happen to track where they vamoosed to?" Ralph finally managed, his tone souring.

"Near as dammit, bythat pet shop in Chinatown," Micheal said, sipping his coffee. "But he knew I was on his trail after I showed up so it was hard to track him. I just barely got there while he was takin' some poor lady's blood. Then some blond bloke was comin' 'round the corner and I couldn't have him see me so I had to run for it."

"Boy, why'd ya go and do a fool thing like show yourself?"

"What, I was jus' supposed to let him kill the wee li'l gels then? Cut 'em to ribbons?" Micheal gave Ralph a defiant look.

"How... how did you track someone like Muraki?" Hisoka asked, a little impressed though still disgusted.

"The vamoosin' magic he uses, whatsitcalled..." Micheal scratched his jaw. "A sort o' teleportin' but a little different. It leaves a slipstream, an' I can follow that."

"Micheal specializes in detection, tracking, camouflage and disguise," Ralph explained.

"Thanks fer that Ralphy, but I think I can tell the laddy meself."

Ralph rolled his eyes as Micheal sat back raising his mug to his lips. "You got a specialty, lad?" He asked before sipping his coffee.

"Empathy, but I'm up to Basic 2 Telepathy." He answered without thinking, and suddenly felt genuinely shocked. He rarely offered information about himself. And Micheal just gave him another reason not to as he dribbled coffee down his ripped shirt and exposed chest, eyes wide with shock.

"An empath? Really?" Ralph asked, one bushy gray brow raised.

"Basic 2 Telepathy. That means you can read and comprehend surface thoughts and reactions through physical contact, right?" Micheal said, doing what he could to wipe away the coffee with his tie.

"Yes..." Hisoka replied warily. He wanted the topic to change. Now.

"We had someone who got up to Basic 10 but couldn't get through Advanced 1," Micheal said thoughtfully. "Rare, but dangerous gift telepathy..."

Hisoka wondered what Micheal meant by 'had', but Tsuzuki chose that time to step out the bathroom in a fluffy blue bathrobe and his dark hair wet and sticking out every which way.

"Hey, 'Soka," He mumbled looking around with a rather distracted expression. "You gotta hairdryer I could borrow?" He looked up and his eyes fell on the two other Shinigami. "Hullo!" He said brightly. "Did the LA branch send you?"

"Yes," Said Ralph standing and offering his hand which Tsuzuki took and shook happily. "I'm Ralph Klein, and this is my partner Micheal Phenninger."

"Cheers!" Micheal said with a grin, and raised his mug up to Tsuzuki.

---

Leon sat down, dark circles under his eyes. It was a bit past midnight and he had just come out of the men's room. That had been, near as dammit, the only time he had cried in fourteen year. He hadn't bawled, but his throat had gotten tight and his face had gone all screwed up and there had been tears.

Jill. That sick fuck had gotten Jill. His partner, and his friend.

He looked down at her with the I.V. Drip to get her blood sugar up. She would be all right, but...

...He couldn't deny what he saw. The way those puddles had just raised up from the ground, creating this sort of globe and vanishing...

...Jill's blood. That bastard had taken Jill's blood.

And D knew something. Leon knew he knew, but he couldn't even begin to think of how to ask about it.

Frustrated, he buried his face in his hands and pressed hard as if trying to rub out the confusion so some things would start making sense. When he looked up again, a perfectly manicured hand was holding a styrofoam cup in front of him.

"Not what we're used to," he heard the Count say, "But it might clear your senses."

Leon took it, managing a small nod. He sipped it and felt a little better. "That was... that was a really close call." He breathed and felt like a weight had lifted off his chest.

"She's not safe yet." D replied pulling up a chair.

"Yeah, but they ran tests. She's not in a coma or anything. She didn't even get a concussion." _Just enough blood sucked out to nearly kill her..._

D looked like he wanted to say something for a minute, but simply remained silent.

But still water often belied a strong current, and D's thoughts were positively boiling. First and foremost, he shouldn't even be here watching over a stinking human.

But were it not for the whole human thing, D could quite easily get along with Jill. She could be overbearing, but also a cheerful optimist. And he certainly shouldn't be offering any sort of comfort to that brute of a detective.

Not that brute of a detective who came over almost every day and despite their disagreements could hold a damn good conversation. Definitely not that brute of a detective.

If his grandfather could see him now...

He squashed that particular thought, because he had been very careful about keeping his less than hostile relationship with the human very, very quiet.

But there was something else he couldn't repress, and that was a cold fury bubbling in the pit of his stomach.

_How dare he...? How dare that doctor bring his sick games anywhere near the shop!_ D knew it had been a warning from Muraki, and he could be fairly certain the doctor knew just how close to home it would hit D.

For all his wards and protections on the pet shop, D knew it could be as easy as breaking a babies arm if Muraki wanted to force entry.

_Why does grandfather seek an alliance with such a human? Certainly, he has the means to our... desired ends. But the way his mind works, the way he regards life... is he not what our race should seek to destroy? Not incompetent parents or washed up movie stars, but humans like Muraki so full of malice and ill intent. _He gave a sidelong glance to Leon and felt the edges of his mouth curving into a frown. Leon may have all the tact of a stampeding herd of elephants and more concern about toe fungus than the tropical rain forest, but he wasn't a _bad _human. He could be harsh spoken, and sometimes say hurtful things, but he wasn't cold. He wasn't a killer.

So why then did his grandfather value someone like Muraki and wouldn't think twice about killing someone like Leon? Or Jill?

_Because your prejudice has made you bitter. Your family has been so consumed by vengeance that you cannot look beyond it at a bigger picture. You have seen but cannot accept that not every human is a monster._

D mentally shook himself. That was nonsense, and he knew it. He shouldn't be questioning his grandfather's methods. But perhaps...

_...Perhaps Grandfather is being threatened as well?_

That could not be so easily dismissed as mental ramblings. The thought persisted, sticking hard in D's craw and making him feel a little sick.

But how could Muraki possibly get under his grandfather's skin? Certainly the man was powerful. More powerful than D even. But surely he was no match for his grandfather?

D couldn't stay here. He needed to get home, and Chris would be worried sick.

_Another human you've taken under your wing... _He thought bitterly. But Chris was a child. An innocent.

He stood, gracefully as he could. "Will you be staying all night, Mister Detective?"

Leon gave a small nod in response.

"Very well. I must go and feed the animals. And make sure Chris isn't getting into any trouble. I shall be by tomorrow to visit. Give her my regards when she wakes up."

Leon nodded again and D gathered up his things.

"Tell Chris that everything's gonna be all right."

"I will. Good night, Mister Detective."

It would be all right, D thought as he stepped into the florescent lit hall. He'd make sure of it. Because he wasn't going to stand for Muraki...

---

The night had brought with it dry, cool, clear air. A cold front must have been pushing away all the heat and humidity and for that D was grateful. He could hear the hubbub of the city, somewhat subdued because it was quite late. It buzzed and hummed, roared and beeped. Somewhere, a dog was barking.

He made it home shortly, feeling relieved to be in the safety of his pet shop. Chris, Pon-chan, and Tet-chan ran to greet him almost immediately.

"_What happened?_" Chris asked, worry all over his face.

"Your brother's partner was in a bit of an accident. She'll be fine, but he's going to stay at the hospital with her for a while." Chris relaxed, and D smiled patting the boy's cheek. "Now, I think it's time everyone turned in. We'll go see your brother in the morning, Christopher Orcot don't even think of arguing with me, now to bed!" He said it one long run-on sentence so there would be no arguments or questions. Resigned, Chris carried Pon-chan off, though the Toutetsu remained.

"Count," he said quietly, "Someone was trying to get in the shop while you were gone. We didn't let them in though."

D stiffened, but his expression was unreadable. "I see."

"I got scared. Like the time the Manticore came in."

D just nodded. "Thank you for telling me. Good night."

"'Night," and the Toutetsu shuffled off casting worried glances over his shoulder. D watched him go, before finally his shoulders sagged and he breathed out. So Muraki _had_ tried to get in. Thankfully the barriers and wards had held.

Still, that meant Jill and Leon were in a heap of trouble, and D was no match for Muraki.

...but he knew something that was.

---

The study was hard to locate in the pet shop. It moved around a lot and even D had trouble keeping up with it's various eccentricities. Or at least those of its occupant. Today, he had to climb several flights of stairs which should have, by normal standards, taken him to the roof and beyond. But as anyone who has ever set foot in the pet shop could tell you, it was no normal building. And so, D came to the top landing and out into a large corridor. There were no doors, no windows, just dark, polished hardwood walls bearing lamps and tapestries. The woodwork was a piece of art. D had never been to this part of the pet shop before, and he was certain the study had relocated itself here just to show him what he had been missing.

He walked on and came to the dead end of the corridor. Without thinking, he touched his hand to what at first glance only appeared to be a carving in the woodwork and turned the knob.

The door opened inwards to reveal a room with dark beams and deep red walls with gilt fern patterns. There were shelves of books, and by a large window that overlooked a sunny rural landscape was a hardwood desk and red leather sitting chair with its back turned to the door. D could see a plume of green smoke streaming up gently from the chair's back in the soft yellow light coming from a kerosene lamp on the desk and the popping and crackling fire in a marble hearth.

Unlike all the other rooms in the shop, this one bore no signs of Chinese architecture. In fact, much of the patterns were reminiscent of rococo France.

"I believe I owe you a boon," said the Prince of Demons from his chair without turning around.

"That you do," said the Count wasting no time with formalities. The Prince of Demons had no desire for them, and the Count had little patience with the Prince's kind. He told him what he wanted.

"Easy enough." He saw a ring of smoke rise up from the back. "You say this man is human?"

"Yes."

"And the two you wish for me to watch over are also humans?"

"Yes, but I don't see that's relevant. As it stands, you are obligated to-"

"I know what I amand what I am not obligated to do." He said snappishly. "Just thinking that you certainly have more brains than your good for nothing grandpappy."

"I will not tolerate that sort of slander about Grandfather under this roof. Need I remind you that-"

"-'I am the one sheltering you from repercussions for your crimes in the Demon World' yadda, yadda, yadda. We've been through it. Right, I won't dishonor the ol' fart. Just saying. You got the common sense in the family."

"Oscar..." D warned.

"Right, I'm going, I'm going."

"Oh, and one more thing Oscar..."

"Sunnuva... what?"

"When you run into Mister Kazutaka... Try to manifest as something a little more... intimidating."

He could hear silence from the red leather chair. He could guess the Prince was glowering.

"...I'll give it a shot." Oscar conceded. "But I guarantee nothing. I like this form."

D felt a little hint of satisfaction as the view on the window changed to the inside of the hospital bedroom where Jill was still asleep and Leon was pacing. He'd occasionally fiddle with the empty styrofoam cup or look at it as if it had grown a head.

The Count smiled and stepped out of the study, feeling a little better now that he had found a use for the little fugitive. He disliked demons, more than he disliked humans, but they had their uses. And if it made Muraki think twice before trying that stunt again, it was well worth it.

And now it was time to check on his Siren. She should be constructing a nest by now...

He gave pause to consider this. Just what was she going to be making a nest with?

Despite his poor heart condition, the Count was certain he had never run quite so fast in his entire life, even on that Christmas with Honlon...

---

Q-chan fluttered about the sitting room, for the first time unable to make a sound. He had been watching over the Siren in D's absence and while curtains, cushions, and furniture meant very little to the batbunny, the Count was going to raise merry hell when he saw this disaster.

---

Sakon watched the sun come up over the sky rises, dark shadows under his eyes, and hugging Ukon to his chest like the puppet was a favorite stuffed animal.

His heart was still drumming in his chest, and he hadn't switched the lights off all night. He couldn't get that man, that faceless man, out of his head. It must have been some kind of nightmare, where he ended up sleep walking. His mind playing tricks. Maybe a hallucination. His doctor had said that he should get checked for schizophrenia...

It couldn't have possibly been real. Not a real ghost.

He clutched Ukon a little tighter, the sunlight very reassuring. Sakon had been scared of many things as a child but the dark wasn't one of them. But now he knew that instinctive fear, and he hated it.

He looked up at the yellow and blue sky outside his window and inhaled, exhaled.

_Just a nightmare._

He stood, hitching up the waistband of his boxers and smoothing out his t-shirt. He'd need a shower, brush his teeth, scrub away all of last night because he'd feel better when he was clean and had something in his stomach that wasn't made of 90 grease.

_It could have been the food disagreeing with me,_ he thought desperately. His grandfather had always been very strict and traditional about what they ate, and it had been Sakon's first bacon-cheeseburger with fries. He'd been nearly sick afterwards and giddy with teenage rebellion.

He promptly vowed to go vegetarian if meat induced those kinds of hallucinations. That had been terrifying.

He gave a little laugh to reassure himself, though it didn't do much good. It sounded high and hysterical, and he quickly snapped his mouth shut.Standing in front of the cabinetmirror, the puppet master examined his reflection critically. His eyes were red around the rims and definitely bloodshot. He wore a hunted expression and his black hair, usually so neat, was wild and sticking up in the back.

He looked like he did at the end of each semester finals: haggard, exhausted and stressed.

_Shower. Cold shower. And coffee._ Coffee had been something else his grandfather had disapproved of, and Sakon felt the urge to order a grande latte with two shots of espresso. It was the sort of thing Ukon would do, if the puppet could, indeed, drink a latte with two shots of espresso.

Turning the blue tap, he shed his t-shirt and boxers, and stepped into the cold blast of water. When he felt jolted awake by the rush of cold, he switched to warm water and got down to getting clean.

Soap, that anti-dandruff shampoo and finally some prescription face wash because he had acne trouble with some of the makeup he wore on stage. He could never quite get it all out...

Stepping out the shower, he tied a towel around his waist and got to rummaging around in the cabinet for his toothbrush and tooth paste. When he was done with that, it was time to comb his hair. Taking the hand towel from the rack and wiping away the fogged up glass on the mirror...

...And there, in the reflection, a pair of empty eye sockets watched him from the doorway.

---

Ralph could understand the hurt expression on Tsuzuki's face as they headed for the hospital. It was around eleven in the morning and the dark-haired Shinigami was clearly not happy about being separated from his partner.

They had met bright and early that morning, ready to discuss plans for interrogations and it had been Hisoka's suggestion at splitting up. It would mean both bureaus would be on the same page, and Tsuzuki wouldn't wallow in guilt about the brutal murder of that officer Gregory Miles.

That, and Ralph knew the youngest Shinigami wanted to question the Miles family, as well as the pet shop owner, himself. And somebody needed to be the responsible adult with Tsuzuki.

It meant Micheal and Hisoka would have to take a pit stop at the L.A. Branch, but that was beside the point.

"So, you two are experts on this killer fella?" Ralph started conversationally. "Least, that's what the chief says."

"As experts as anyone can be," Tsuzuki said vaguely. "I don't think anyone can really understand how Muraki works."

Ralph cocked his head to the side. "Huh. Oh!" He rummaged around in his pocket and produced a leather wallet with a badge and an FBI identification card. It had Tsuzuki's picture on it.

"Custom made. You can thank Aloysius later when you meet him." Ralph said, showing his.

"FBI?" Tsuzuki asked, looking the badge over. "What do we need this for?"

"Well, we're questioning police officers here and we sure as hell ain't LAPD. And the little lady's partner might be there. Actually, I'm willing to bet money he is." Ralph grinned, hoping Tsuzuki might take the hint.

"How much?" Tsuzuki asked, giving the balding man a sidelong glance.

"Five dollars?"

They passed a pastry shop, and Tsuzuki cast a furtive look to a dish of what looked to be very tasty apple strudels. Five dollars a pop, and while Hisoka wasn't fond of many sweets, he'd occasionally indulge in an apple strudel.

"Ten."

"Done."

---

"This is Doctor Aloysius Grant," Micheal explained as they stepped into the clean, white lab. It smelled strongly of disinfectant, "Master of disguises, tech support and all around lab-man. Usually 'e just makes us police or FBI badges, but sometimes an investigation requires a little something else."

Aloysius was a tall African-American man in his mid-thirties with short braids in his hair and wore a black, long sleeved shirt and a pair of navy blue slacks. He stood and offered his hand to Hisoka and the young Shinigami noticed he had a gold band around his ring-finger. Hisoka wondered if his wife lived in this world, the next, or was still alive somewhere as he took the hand and shook it.

"Nice to finally meet you," he said brightly. "Your chief sent photos over so I could doctor up you guys some ID badges, but I didn't know what to do with yours. A 16 year old FBI agent is kinda..." he trailed off and made a face.

"Yeah," Hisoka said, trying to keep the aggravation out of his voice because he got a good vibe from Aloysius and it certainly wasn't this man's fault he was stuck with a 16 year old body that was, Hisoka was ashamed to say, barely in the throws of puberty. Aloysius Grant didn't deserve to be the victim of Hisoka's usual sour temper.

Aloysius continued with a sympathetic smile, "So I talked to your lab guy. The one that talks about 90 miles an hour."

Well, that sounded like Watari.

"And he told me about this potion he concocted that caused age regression. And I thought to myself, 'huh', and finally got the recipe off of him. Then he told me about the remedy and I got to thinking, and I whipped up these two little beauties-"

Before he could finish, there was a shrill female voice echoing in the lab: "Aloysius! Darling!"

"Susan!"

It wasn't the little black batwings or the long pointed tail with a flat spade-like end that tipped Hisoka off the woman named 'Susan' wasn't and never had been human. Nor was it the little black horns. He couldn't place his finger on it, but something about her felt... familiar. Like, Sagatanasu only... not. She radiated a certain badness, but if Hisoka could put images to his empathy, little pink hearts would be bubbling out her head as she nuzzled Aloysius' cheek. She was bad, probably untrustworthy, and cunning to boot, but there was no black gaping maw of evil steaming off of her like there had been with Sagatanasu. And then there was the warm bubbly feeling he had in his stomach he often felt when he was around young couples or newlyweds. So there was bad, and then there was malevolent.

"A demon?" He remarked to Micheal rather quietly.

"A Succubus, lucky bastard. That's Marie Susan Grant, Aloysius Grant's wife and our secretary."

"Susan the Secretary Succubus," Hisoka grumbled. "Figures."

She was pretty, despite the pale, blueish white of her skin, which put Hisoka uneasily in mind of Maria Wong when she had turned into a vampire. She had cropped black hair, dark-rimmed square glasses, and wore a neat black business suit and skirt, black stockings and soft leather pumps. The outfit was remarkably conservative, but the fact of the matter was, Susan was a Succubus and practically blazed with sexuality.

"I just finished up the filing," she said, arms wrapped loosely around her husband's shoulders, "So I'm going to go pick up Dave from daycare and take him shopping. He's grown right out of his shoes already, bless him."

"Alright sweetheart, I'll be home later. I just need to finish up with these gentlemen and then I'll have the afternoon off."

"These gentlemen...?" Her attention turned to Hisoka and Micheal, and almost immediately Hisoka realized he never, ever wanted to be the center of attention for a Succubus again. "Oh my gosh, he's adorable with those big green eyes! Like a little girl!"

Hisoka sighed. He was starting to feel at home already, unfortunately.

"I could just eat him right up with a big ol' spoon!" The Succubus crooned as he tried to wriggle away from her sudden and enthusiastic embrace, but that tail had wrapped around his ankle and sent him flying flat on his face. He realized that with those fangs, she wasn't being metaphorical.

"Susan, we talked about this." Aloysius warned.

"Just a little nibble?" She pleaded, her lower lip trembling. Hisoka noticed that she wasn't wearing black lipstick, but that was the actual color of her lips.

"Susan..." Aloysius raised a warning finger.

"Oh fine. The things I do for my pookie-pie." She humphed, releasing Hisoka. "But you better not work too late. And bring home that riding crop. That's always fun."

"Erm..." Aloysius gave a polite cough as his wife sashayed out the door, waving her tail in a little 'toodle-loo' fashion.

Micheal looked as though his ears were going to start bleeding, and Hisoka was trying not to cringe.

"Well, now, um... that was my lovely wife Susan. Anyway, moving on."

"Yes moving on." Because there were things that did not need to be lingered on.

"I made up a rapid development potion... why are you looking at me like that?"

Hisoka was now creeping away very slowly, watching Aloysius with a caged look. "The last time I saw a rapid development potion," he began and Aloysius laughed.

"Let me guess, someone used a black belladonna and made an invisible potion?" He shook his head. "No, I'm not so careless. This one works. My wife tried it with ah... very positive results."

"Is that why she's got tits the size o' ripe melons now?" Micheal asked, tactless as ever. Aloysius rolled his eyes.

"Yes, jackass, that's why my wife is significantly more endowed than she was two days ago. Thank you for pointing out the obvious."

"Well, that's my job, detectivatin' an' all."

"I'm so going to kill you. Anyway Hisoka, I think you'll find you won't have any trouble with my potions and the effects are permanent until you take the regressive potion." He held up the bottle and pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "Side effects may include within the first 12 hours dry mouth, itchy nose, rash, and possibly vomiting. Within the next 24 hours you may get a migraine or have trouble breathing. Micheal or I can lend you one of our suits if you experience a growth spurt. Bathroom's down the hall and to the left.

Hisoka took the potion feeling rather dumbfounded. Did everyone here just fire off a million words a minute? It was like a whole department full of Watari.

The young Shinigami gave this the due consideration it deserved. And shuddered.

Right, time to take a potion. Be a man.

---

Watari was hunched over the glowing screen of his laptop, scribbling frantically across a piece of notepaper. Occasionally he uttered little phrases like:

"Jesus H. Christ on a Harley fucking Davidson," or "Holy hopping monkeys on a pogo stick."

Watari had some very unique ways of expressing himself.

"Watari," Tatsumi said levelly, though there was an impatient edge to his voice that added the sentence 'hurry up or I'll kill you. Again. Repeatedly.' without actually having to say it.

"Erm," the blond Shinigami quickened his rapid keystrokes and finally sat back in satisfaction as a menu came up on the screen. He let out a triumphant "Ha!" and pointed at the rows of type. Needless to say, Tatsumi couldn't make head nor tail of it. It looked to be an old case file, some pet shop that had given the Judgment Bureau a fair bit of trouble back in the late 80's and early 90's.

"What am I looking at?" Tatsumi demanded, glaring at the screen. "And do you ever plan on taking off that stupid Ninja outfit?"

"One of Muraki's motives t'be in Los Angeles. I think." Watari brought up a list of names on the screen, on which 'Muraki Kazutaka' appeared repeatedly alongside the name of some sort of creature and a price. Watari looked at Tatsumi, any trace of joking gone from his usually sunny face.

"And no, the costume stays. Tatsumi, do you know what a Kami is?"

Tatsumi raised a brow. "You look ridiculous. And yes, but I thought they'd gone extinct? Something to do with some prince and a big war and such. I don't keep up with Kami mythology."

Watari shook his head. "Yeah, well that tie of yours makes you look like a prat." He looked to the screen again. "There are at least three left alive, maybe four..." said the scientist. "...Sofu D, the eldest. His son, 'D', and his grandson 'D'. I'm not to sure what happened to the son, but the eldest and his grandson have a pleasant little business."

Recollection began to raise itself from the thin haze in Tatsumi's head. "I remember now. It was a pet shop in Chinatown. Most of its costumers turned up dead, and the merchandise was certainly not anything you'd get in a normal pet shop. We had Asato and Kobayashi on that one. Big failure... Tsuzuki still regrets it."

"Yeah, well, looks like the grandson has taken over the family business in L.A.'s Chinatown. Same pattern of bizarre deaths and even more bizarre animals croppin' up."

Tatsumi looked at the list. "And Muraki was a frequent customer."

"Yup." Watari said brightly. "But Muraki doesn'twant just the regular ol' animals. He'll buy a bunch, cut 'em up and put different pieces together."

"In other words, he makes Chimera's."

Watari nodded and stood to pour a mug of coffee for himself. "Yeah, but lately he's noticed his little creations lack a certain 'Umph!'," he said, thrusting his pelvisto emphasize the word 'umph' in a manner that would make any Elvis impersonator cringe.

"How do you mean?"

"His first run-in with Tsuzuki, none of his creatures could begin to compare to the power of the Gods he could summon. Like a little kid jealous of a boy with a better plastic thing... waddayacallit..."

"...A 'toy' Watari?" Tatsumi sounded exasperated. "Get to the point."

"...Jealous of a new toy," Watari continued, not missing a beat, "Muraki plans on handcrafting himself his own personal gods using the bits he likes best from powerful animals and humans."

This was met with silence from Tatsumi.

"Now, makin' Chimera's is looked down on enough as it is, but throwin' human's into the mix..." Watari tsked, wagging his index finger. "Big 'no no'."

"We saw a human Chimera, with that Mariko girl back in Kyoto."

Watari nodded. "Muraki's first success. Started simple. Just a human and an insect. But I get the feeling he's gonna to try something much worse, much bigger. And he needs a steady supply of parts from little Grandsonny boy."

"What do you mean much worse?"

Watari was quiet for a minute, which didn't hold well with Tatsumi. Finally, the scientist spoke, "I'm not sure. He's trying to build a God to serve him, and I don't know all the specs of the ritual. It's only been seriouslyattempted once... but I think I know it entails using a Kami in the final rite."

---

Sakon didn't scare easily. When you grew up in a house full of puppets, and murders cropped up everywhere you went, you tended to have a higher threshold for fear.

Sakon had screamed, more in surprise than anything, and mostly because he was in a towel. But he wasn't scared. He was annoyed.

He turned to the door frame and looked at the apparition. "You're just a bit of bacon-cheeseburger. Or a bad chip. Go away."

The hallucination didn't vanish. Instead it tilted its head like a child who had just been sent to its room. Now that Sakon looked closer, the faceless man didn't seem so threatening. It just sort of stood there, as if it was trying to say something, but couldn't get it out.

What bothered Sakon was the politeness of it all. If this was a ghost, it should have been trying to scare the pants off him (if he were wearing pants), or causing a ruckus. It just seemed polite and... sad? Yes, Sakon thought, the posture has a definite gloominess to it.

Looks like he'd have to play charades with his indigestion. But he'd feel better if he could at least have some pants, because he was becoming increasingly aware of his whole lack of leg-garments...

"Look, do you mind? Now's not a really good time. Can this wait 'till I get my clothes on?" He'd never been snappish in his life, but now he felt like he needed to be. "Just... wait outside in the living-room, I'll be there in a few minutes."

It nodded, and shut the door with a soft 'click' behind it.

Sakon exhaled. _Never, ever, eating meat again. Ever._

_---_

**AN:** Ah, the end of another chapter. This should havebeen up two weeks ago, but alas, I kept getting errors every time Iuploaded. Sorry for the delay (Excuses, excuses).

I had only intended to introduce Aloysius in here, but he seemed so damn normal. And a potential angst bucket. So he needed a wife and thus Susan the Secretary Succubus was thrown in. She may pop up again once or twice, because god knows I love bizzare married people.

Once again, feedback (especially criticism) is loved.

**To Caer:** I'm glad you're enjoying this! I hope that it doesn't go down the same drain that other crossovers have in the past, because this is fun to write.

Next chapter, expect some answers.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5: Solitaire

---

The puppetmaster didn't know what he was expecting when he stepped out into his living-room dressed and rubbing a towel through his dark hair. He certainly wasn't expecting to come face to skull with his indigestion again.

Sakon nearly jumped out of his skin, though relaxed. "Okay, what are you? This is getting ridiculous!"

It stared at him in polite silence, and Sakon sighed. He knew he should be scared out of his wits, but this... whatever it was, didn't feel malicious like some of the murderers he'd met.

"Are you just a bad case of indigestion?" He demanded. It shook its head. "Hallucination?" Shake. "Evil spirit?" Vigorous shake. "Demon? Devil? Oni?" Shake, shake, shake.

"Ghost?"

"**WAY TO GO CORPEREAL DUH.**" Scrawled itself in red across the wall in red and then vanished.

"No need to be rude. So you're a ghost."He reached a hand out cautiously and touched the man's shoulders. Should ghosts be that solid? "Are you here to haunt me and make my life miserable?"

The ghost stood there and stared with his empty eye sockets.

"I'll take that as a 'no'. What do you want?"

"**HELP ME.**" Appeared on the wall and soon after vanished along with the ghost.

Sakon gave an exhale of frustration. "You'll have to be a little more specific then that..." he said to thin air.

---

Hisoka Kurosaki knew better than to ever mix medication again. The rapid development potion had worked great, but it had also mingled with the potion the Count of the Hall of Candles had made with... interesting results.

It was already past noon by the time Hisoka and Micheal were standing outside the Miles' front door, and ringing the bell.

A young man who looked a little older than the boy in the photograph answered. The picture must have been old because Gregory Mile's brother looked like he was about 16 and well into a growth spurt.

Hisoka produced the badge that Aloysius had doctored up, and went through the lines as quickly as possible.

"Agent Kurosaki and Agent Phenninger," Micheal produced his own badge, "from the FBI. Are Mr. Or Mrs. Miles at home? We would like to ask a few questions in regards to the tragedy with Gregory Miles."

The young man stared blearily up at Hisoka and the Shinigami noticed his eyes were puffy and bloodshot and he had red splotches on his cheeks. He had been crying, and recently. Finally, he nodded and held the door open for Hisoka. "Mom's home."

Hisoka and Micheal stepped inside. It was a nice house with polished wood floors and thick, cushy throw-rugs. It smelled nice, and in better times had been a very happy home, but at the moment the Shinigami could practically see tendrils of grief radiating out the walls.

"Mom," the boy called softly, peeking into the living room, "the Feds are here. They want to ask some questions."

A woman sitting on the floral-patterned couch draped with quilts and throw-pillows stood very slowly and nodded at the two. "Please," she said, "come in. Carl, could you make some tea?"

"There's no need-" Micheal started, but the woman raised a hand.

"You're trying to catch the bastard that did this to my baby." She said softly, straightening and squaring her shoulders as Carl disappeared into the kitchen. "The least I can be is hospitable, since I don't think I was much help with the police."

"We just need to ask a few questions," Micheal said reassuringly. "And then we'll be out of your hair."

---

"You owe me ten dollars," was the first thing Tsuzuki said to Ralph as they looked in Jill's room. There was no sign of her partner.

Jill sat up as they stepped in and offered a polite, if bemused smile. Ralph took out his badge. Tsuzuki followed suit, producing his own doctored badge from the recesses of his trench coat.

"FBI, Miss. Just here to ask a few questions. You feelin' up to it?"

Jill nodded and motioned to the two chairs.

"By the way," Ralph said looking around the room, "Your partner wouldn't be here by any chance?"

"Leon was here earlier, but he went back to his apartment a little after I got up," she croaked.

"Leavin' a pretty lady like you all by your lonesome?" Ralph looked genuinely shocked.

Jill gave a hoarse laugh and shook her head. "He was here all night while I was unconscious. He was dead on his feet when his little brother and D stopped in this morning so I asked D to make sure he got home all right." She smiled, rubbing her bandaged neck gingerly. "Besides, I need him to look into what happened to Greg after he's gotten some sleep."

"Greg?" Tsuzuki asked, brow raising.

"Yeah," Jill replied, looking confused. "The FBI was down at the precinct yesterday after they found his body."

Tsuzuki looked to Ralph who decided not to meet the other man's gaze.

"Yes, Greg. That's right." Ralph said, toneless. Jill gave him a skeptical look, but didn't say anything. But Tsuzuki could tell by her expression that the way Ralph had just brushed off Greg's death she was not happy. "Anyway, we need to know everything you can remember."

Jill was watching them like a hawk now, her brown eyes that had been warm and welcoming now had a sharp, calculating stare. Tsuzuki didn't like the way it felt she was looking through them. It reminded him of the way Hisoka glared, all chilly and impersonal. She must be a damned good detective...

"I was going to see Leon at D's shop. I go there sometimes when I need to drop off work for Leon."

"Where is this shop?" Tsuzuki asked politely. Ralph was taking notes in unreadable shorthand while Tsuzuki listened to Jill.

"In Chinatown. It's a pet shop, though it's kind of exotic. D sells some really weird animals... but anyway, I was going to see Leon and just outside the shop I saw some guy in a white coat having trouble with his car..."

---

_Who are these guys?_ Jill thought looking at the man in the black suit and tench coat that wouldn't have looked out of place in a bad sci-fi action flick geared at adolescent boys with more hormones than braincells. They couldn't be FBI. Not the way the balding old guy had brushed off Greg's death...

No. That wasn't it. He hadn't seemed uncaring, just desperately wanting to change the subject...

And the man in the trench coat... her gaze kept getting drawn to him. He was definitely Asian, though she had never seen such a brilliant amethyst colour in eyes before. And the more she talked, the more they hardened with cold fury.

These guys may not be Feds, but they were definitely after the man who'd done this to her.

But she couldn't get out what she had seen... Greg's face on that... thing.

---

Leon fumbled with the keys to his apartment as D and Chris waited in polite silence.

"_Jill... Jill looked really good, huh Leon?_" Chris said to break the silence. "_I think she'll get better, right D?_"

"Most definitely," D said, a little distracted. "She'll pull right through."

Leon just grunted, rubbing at the dark circles under his eyes and finally got that damned shoddy lock to open. When he stepped into his apartment, he gaped.

---

Trilochana sat in her nest of splintered furniture, tattered curtains, cushion stuffing and various other bits and pieces she had torn the the living room apart to build her nest with. She was feeling sluggish after D had thrown a fit about the stupid human contraptions he kept, and then she had gone into labor. And now... now there were the two eggs, about the size of ostrich eggs the same powdery blue as her skin. She'd stroke them with pride, crooning and singing. These eggs were far more important than any couch or curtain or chair, or at least she thought so.

How she wished Aparajita were here to see them. But no, only that damned batrabbit that wasn't an animal at all was here under D's strict orders to make sure she didn't cause any more damage.

When she wasn't doting over her eggs, she would peer up from the edge of her nest and stare unblinkingly at Q-chan.

She didn't like the way the creature was always with the Great Nestwing, like some sort of watchdog. It was unnerving. And he didn't smell like any animal she had ever seen. In fact he smelled a lot like D-D, and not on account of him always being with the Kami.

_What are you...?_ the Siren thought, ducking back down to stroke the shells of her eggs, and then peeking up again, narrowing her blue eyes in distrust.

Q-chan gave her a guileless look.

And then Trilochana realized just what was looking back at her, and she smiled with her purple lips, exposing white fangs that gleamed in the yellow lamplight.

She began to sing, softly so that the other nesteggs wouldn't hear. It was a beautiful melody, thousands of generations old. Q-chan seemed to try to resist its tug, but his eyes soon glazed over in a look of pure bliss and he fluttered gently to the source of the sound...

She snatched him out of mid-air in one swift movement, and stuffed him whole into her mouth with a satisfied purr. D would probably be furious, but he'd thank her later...

---

"D'ya suppose we can go in there and see the eggs?" Pon-chan asked hopefully looking at Tet-chan.

"The Count said not to," he grumped, pacing at the door. "She might bite us or something."

Pon-chan pouted, looking longingly at the door. "I just wondered if Siren eggs are pink and green like one of the Naga's said."

"They're blue." Tet-chan replied, leaning back against the door. He had been there the night before when the Count helped her deliver the eggs.

"Oh."

"But I think it varies by the colour of the Siren. There might be a pink Siren. Or a green one. But Trilochana's blue."

Pon-chan giggled.

"What's so funny?" Tet-chan asked, arching a brow.

"I was just thinking about that Disney song, with the blue birds. Could you imagine Trilochana landing on Snow White's finger?"

Tet-chan gave this the consideration it was thoroughly due.

"That'd be a sleep no handsome Prince Charming could wake her up from..." he paused. "Do you hear singing?"

Pon-chan's ears perked. "Yes! Trilochana must be happy."

"No..." Tet-chan said, pressing his ear against the door. "That's how they lure prey... is there anyone in there with her?"

"Q-chan I think-"

Tet-chan didn't need any further incentive. He burst through the door just as Trilochana stuffed something small, brown and fuzzy into her mouth.

"Trilochana," he warned, glaring fiercely at the Siren. He knew the Toutetsu was one of the few natural predators Siren's had, and so she'd listen. "Drop him."

Trilochana gave the Toutetsu a mutinous glare, but complied, spitting out a saliva-soaked Q-chan. The batbunny stood, disgusted at the blue goo he was covered in and then proceeded to squeak batbunny profanities at the Siren.

Tet-chan ignored him but instead met the Siren's stare. "What the hell got in your head that you thought you should eat him!" He jabbed a finger at the furiously squeaking batbunny. "The Count keeps you fed and indulges all your stupid little whims. Why Q-chan?"

The Siren tossed her head haughtily. "If you had any sense, you'd have done the same." She leered horribly at the batbunny, her lip curling in a sneer and revealing her long, pointed incisors. "But I know his little secret... he won't reveal himself to you, but I know." She glared at Q-chan. "Scratch the surface of the lie and the truth bleeds through!" As if to emphasize her point, she swiped her talons at the animal. Tet-chan immediately put himself between D's pet and the Siren, and she backed away with a snarl. "I should have bit down and snapped his little neck when I had the chance because now he won't make the same mistake twice. I swear as soon as Great Nestwing gets here his little game will be over."

Q-chan stared back at her defiantly, and Tet-chan just looked at her as if she had grown another head.

"What are you rambling about? He's just a stupid batbunny!"

"He's-" She coughed, "He..." She coughed again, more fitfully. "He's a-" and then she clutched her throat, as if she was choking.

"Trilochana...?" Tet-chan exclaimed, now quite concerned.

The coughing stopped, and she tried to speak again but no sound came.

"...Are you okay?" He watched in horrified fascination as her lips moved but there was no voice. And then she screamed, a horrible silent scream. If there had been a sound, Tet-chan imagined it might have shattered glass. "Q-chan, get the Count!" Tet-chan exclaimed looking desperately at the batbunny. "Something's really wrong with her!"

"Kyuu!" The batbunny affirmed and zipped out the door, trailing the blue saliva all over one of D's more expensive oriental rugs.

"It's okay Trilochana, the Count'll be here soon!" He tried to reassure her as she thrashed violently, expression one of sheer panic.

---

Amita looked up from where she was sprawled out on the couch with the two children as the door opened and the yellow two-legger stepped.

He pointed at her furiously as she gave him a lazy stare.

"YOU!"

"Yes me," Amita said innocently as if she hadn't trashed his car, and shredded the upholstery on his couch. "I couldn't get into the Count's shop so I tracked your scent here and we let ourselves in."

"You... wait, what?"

"What's all the commotion?" D said stepping in with Chris and gave a gasp of surprise as he spied the Manticore sprawled out on the couch like she owned the place. Chris's mouth turned into a little 'O' of amazement.

"What... are... you doing... in my... apartment?" Leon managed, on the verge of becoming quite hysterical from sleep deprivation, stress, and sheer aggravation that this Manti-thing had the nerve to break into _his_ home and lounge around on _his _couch. It was then that a child of about four and indeterminate sex poked its head out from under the Manticore's enormous wing and pointed an accusing finger at Leon.

"Got bubbies on his wall!" The four-year-old stated matter-of-factly.

"Oh Mister Detective! You still have that smut in your room? No wonder you never let Chris visit." D huffed looking at Leon in disgust.

"Excuse me, there's a Thing-a-core on my couch and we're talking about porn?" Leon snapped angrily. "Can we please get a little perspective?"

"Actually," the Manticore continued, "It was a topic of much interest between Twyla and I how two-leggers of such endowment remain upright without their spine telescoping. We'd have slept in there but apparently she said it was indecent." The creature sniffed. "I'll never understand humans... but anyway..."

"Can someone please explain why the fuck there is a manatee on my couch!"

"Manticore." Amita corrected.

"Mister Detective, language please! There are children present!"

"Said a bad word, gotta put a quarter inna jar!"

Chris was doubled over in silent giggles, and another child a fair bit older than the boy screaming about quarters clambered out from under the other wing. It took Chris a moment to recognize it as a girl because her hair was so short.

"We're hiding." Said the creature calmly as the girl wiped sleep from her eyes.

"Okay, I can deal with the Manticore. This is just another normal day in the fucked up world of knowing him." He jerked an accusing thumb at the Count as the four year old boy screamed 'Quarter!'. "But what's with the rugrats? What the hell are you hiding from?"

"Mister Detective..."

"You want to know what we're hiding from?" The Manticore hissed, a small smile creeping along her mouth.

"YES."

"Very well. I'll tell you everything I know... you might want to have a seat though. This is a long story..."

Leon scowled at the idea of this creature offering him a seat in his own apartment but he complied.

---

"I knew Greg was bisexual since he was sixteen. My husband left when I refused to put him in one of those programs that apparently 'cures' gayness." Mrs. Miles dabbed her eyes and gave a hollow laugh. "It really wasn't a surprise when he brought home a man. An older man at that. Quite charming and apparently he was a doctor. Said he owned a private clinic in Japan, but he was thinking of moving to the states after he finished up some personal matters back home." She sniffed, and took a deep breath. "Then, after two years, Greg just broke it off with him. No explanation. He just said 'it wasn't working'. And then he started burying himself in his work."

She looked at Hisoka, all of a sudden quiet. Finally she spoke, and Hisoka could practically taste her grief. "Do you have children Miss. Kurosaki?"

Hisoka shook her head, mentally noting again to never, ever mix medication. And not to let Watari know about this either. Or Saya and Yuma. Especially not Saya and Yuma. "No."

She nodded, looking away. "Sorry... it's just... it's still fresh, you know? Inside, I still love him because he was my baby boy but now I'll never see him again."

Hisoka watched her in silence as Carl brought in a tray laden with tea, and settled down next to his mother. She pulled him into hug, squeezing his shoulders.

"Still, I have this one. Thank God for small miracles." She smiled, ruffling Carl's hair. "Carl and Greg got along great for brothers. Greg would stay here, sometimes for a week at a time to visit with us."

Carl managed a small smile but it vanished as he cast a furtive glance in Hisoka's direction. Hisoka glanced back at the teenager, mouth creasing into a frown. The boy stared back and then slowly mouthed the sentence 'need to talk'.

Hisoka nodded. She knew that on many an investigation there were things the children couldn't say in front of the parents. "Mrs. Miles, would it be alright if Carl shows me where Greg stayed when he visited?"

"Sure, sure. Carl?"

"Yeah mom."

---

Carl was quiet as they went up the stairs, and all the way to Greg's room. Hisoka looked inside and saw that the room was sparsely furnished, though there was some indication that someone spent a lot of time here on and off. There were trophies and medals from high school and college soccer and track. Most of them were bronze or silver, though he'd nabbed the gold a couple of times as well. There were also photos on the wall, some framed such as what appeared to be a vacation in Mexico where he was about fourteen and his mother was holding a four-year-old Carl.

"I miss him." Said Carl quietly. "I miss him a lot, already. I saw him two freakin' days ago and he was being such an ass that I couldn't wait for him to leave and now I'd give anything to have him back."

"How was he being an ass?" Hisoka asked, perplexed.

"He just was. I told him something... about what that boyfriend of his did to me and he just... he just essentially told me to pretend it never happened. That he'd fix it. But..."

"What did his boyfriend do to you?" Hisoka asked, getting a horrible feeling that he knew where this was going.

Carl shrugged, looking anywhere but at Hisoka. "I saw it on you too." He breathed so soft that Hisoka almost didn't hear it. "It's like a tattoo, but not. Like a brand burning into your skin. I saw it as soon as I saw you."

_No,_ Hisoka thought. _No no no no NO!_

"You're not FBI are you?" He asked, standing up a little straighter. "You're detectives, yeah but... you're not the kind of detectives people normally meet, right? There's something really bad going isn't there?"

"I-" Hisoka didn't know how to respond, so he shut his mouth as soon as it opened.

"Greg wasn't just murdered, was he? I know... I know it's something a lot bigger. I know because I overheard something I wasn't supposed to hear, and that doc... he got me too."

And Hisoka couldn't do anything but watch in horrified silence as Carl raised his sleeve.

There, burning red in the afternoon sunlight was the curse.

---

"This whole mess began back during the second world war of two-leggers. I was in Europe at the time, testing how far north I could survive when I was caught by an elderly man from Japan named 'Kazutaka'. He was a doctor, but only by title. I knew him for what he really was..."

D looked up and was about to say something but stopped.

"...a monster. A monster who soon fathered another, and the horrors did not even stop at his grandchildren when they were born a good twenty years later."

Leon frowned and looked at D. "What is she on about?"

D raised a warning finger for silence. Just listen.

"The Kazutaka family has had an affinity with monsters and demons for a long time, seeking power and immortality above all things. It was the Grandfather who discovered a forbidden rite."

"This is bullshi-"

"QUARTER!" Lyle shrieked.

"Both of you be quiet and let Amita finish!" Twyla snapped.

"Yes, please," D added, glaring pointedly. "Do continue, Amita. What is the rite?"

"By taking the blood and souls of seven innocents who embody the virtues of a god, and then making that god from one's own flesh and blood. In other words, one's self or immediate family. That god, that power to even destroy the very world itself, would be at that person's command."

---

"Hey, Sakon!" Zenkichi Fujita had been in Los Angeles for two weeks working on his latest photojournalism project. A series of murders similar to the ones that had been cropping up all over Japan had struck his fancy. Ever since meeting the puppet master-come-detective, he had developed a taste for stories of a more macabre nature. And what was more dark than brutal murders committed by some guy with a thing for roses, blood, and the ilk? Zenkichi had been in a mood for Lovecraftianesque purple prose, and what better an opportunity to present itself than the vampire killer moving from the east to the west?

Sakon turned, surprised by the familiarity of the voice, and stepped back a ways before Zenkichi almost bowled him over.

"Fujita-san, it's a surprise to see you here." Sakon remarked. It actually was. He'd known the brilliant-if-absent-minded photojournalist had taken off for the United States, but he was astonished that they'd run into each other yet again by sheer coincidence in the middle of a crowded Los Angeles street?

"Ha ha, it's strange running into friends so far from home!" Zenkichi replied, a big grin passing across his face.

Sakon looked away nervously. 'Friends'? That was a strange word to hear from someone made of flesh and blood and not wood. But Zenkichi could be a careless person as well. The case could probably be he was just throwing the word out for lack of a better term.

"Yes, it is a little unsettling." Sakon decided, and immediately regretted it. Zenkichi looked genuinely hurt that he was 'unsettling'. Sakon raised his hands up apologetically, immediately loosing his cool. "I... I'm sorry!" He stammered, "I mean, it's just strange. I h... haven't seen you in two years and well..." He felt his cheeks colour, certain he was only digging his hole deeper.

"They weren't exactly the best circumstances, huh?" Zenkichi finished for him, giving a sympathetic smile.

Sakon swallowed, and nodded. "Yes." First the incident with the sword Byakko and the slaughter that wreaked, then the trouble with his aunt's fiancée, and finally Date and that whole gruesome ordeal. As nice as Zenkichi was, Sakon couldn't separate those incidents from the other man.

Still. i Friend /i . He had never been friends with anyone but Ukon and the other puppets before.

He looked up, meeting Zenkichi's gaze. "You're right. They weren't the best of circumstances."

"Right! Okay. So then why don't we start over?" He suggested, and Sakon looked alarmed by the proposition.

"Wh... what are you talking about?" The puppet master aske reproachfully.

"I'm saying let's start again. Like this." He held out his hand, his grin wider than ever. "Zenkichi Fujita, 23, and genius photojournalist. I'm currently documenting an investigation into a brutal murder case!"

Sakon grimaced. i Not more murders... /i But he looked down at the offered hand and then up at the big grin. You couldn't refuse a man who smiled like it was going out of style.

Sakon took the offered hand, returning Zenkichi's grin with a small smile of his own. "Sakon Tachibana, 19, and here on an internship at the LAPD."

"Nice to meetcha!"

"It's a pleasure to meet you as well, Fujita-san."

---

A/N: Behold another chapter a bajillion years late because I'm a bum. Yeah sue me.

What did I tell you? Answers! Well, kinda.

And for those of you who aren't familiar with Ayatsuri Sakon, I suggest you go download/read/watch it because it's a pretty shibi little manga/anime that really doesn't get enough love.

...especially if your a fan of Takeshi Obata's art and Megumi Ogata's voice?

As for Zenkichi, I'm sort of going by both the manga and the anime. Yes, I know in the manga he didn't appear in the Byakko arc, and all that jazz, but what the hell, I love the man. But he did appear in that arc in the anime (why I cannot fathom, but I'm not complaining) so I guess it's sort-of canon? XD Depends on what you go by in the end. And yes, Sakon is a little OOC and there's a reason for that besides the fact I'm still not used to writing him yet.

As for any shipping in here so far, give me time. There will be some fluffbunnies floating by soon to distract from the pretty long and complicated plot I gotta slog through.

...and yes, before there's any confusion, mixing the potion the Count of the Hall of Candles and the Rapid Development potion turned Hisoka into an older woman.

**COMING NEXT...**

More answers? More convoluted (ooh, art school buzzword) plot shinanagins?

Leon realizing that no, straight men just don't wear pants that tight? (Case in point, Samurai Troopers)

Or just another long wait for Jabbers to stop playing Okami and get off her ass?

...You know I love y'all. Crit and comments welcome. You know the drill.


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